


Glass Angels

by Silbrith



Series: Crossed Lines [9]
Category: Supernatural, White Collar
Genre: Gen, Mystery, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23908681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silbrith/pseuds/Silbrith
Summary: January 2006. A sci-fi film project in New Haven leads to more than Neal and his friends bargained for. Crossed Lines story #9, a fusion of Supernatural with Caffrey Conversation.
Series: Crossed Lines [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/513628
Comments: 17
Kudos: 12





	1. Witchy Woman

_Notes: Glass Angels takes place after the events in Silent Planet. The first chapter contains the essentials of the backstory for new readers._ _I also wrote a post_ _for our blog on the status of the key players_ _. The post is called "[Destination: Glass Angels](https://pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com/2020/04/destination-glass-angels.html)." See the notes at the end of the chapter for more information._

* * *

**Neal's Loft. January 25, 2006. Wednesday evening.**

"It will only take a few minutes." Mozzie peered pleadingly through his glasses at Neal. Nobody could wheedle better than Mozzie, but this time he'd be out of luck.

"Not happening," Neal said firmly. "I will _not_ break into the Tomb this weekend."

Ever since Mozzie had discovered a link so tenuous that only he could see it between the Yale secret society Skull and Bones, the Illuminati, and a lost artifact of fabulous value, visions of the Tudor Crown had been spinning in his head. The fact that the headquarters of Skull and Bones, the Tomb, was off-limits to non-members only served to whet his enthusiasm.

"You're being unreasonable," Mozzie grumbled. "You're staying in New Haven for two nights. Electra's house is only a few blocks from the Yale campus. You'll have a car, but you could even walk the distance." He frowned. "You should be thanking me. Sara would love the thrill of breaking into the Tomb."

Neal wasn't about to tell him he was probably right. "You haven't asked her, I hope."

"No, I thought you'd want to. It's a demonstration of the exciting future which awaits her if she stays with you. Sara's an adventurer. She lives for danger. You'll be stifling her—"

At Neal's anguished groan, Mozzie stopped and topped off Neal's glass with a spectacular Pommard he'd brought over. But despite the excellence of the wine, the battle was already lost. There were far too many other distractions in Neal's life, like preparing for the upcoming master workshop he was supposed to teach the following week. The Tudor Crown would have to wait.

The next day, Neal would be at Columbia all day. His advisor, Ivan Sherkov, would demand an update on the workshop. He wouldn't accept a missing Renaissance artifact as an excuse, no matter how fabulous. it was.

"If the Tomb contained any information about the Tudor Crown, bonesmen would have discovered it long ago," Neal pointed out, hoping to appeal to any rational cells left in Mozzie's feverish imaginings. "In any case, we'll probably be working through the night. Aidan's leaving tomorrow for New Haven and has to finish all the photography work by Sunday afternoon. I doubt anyone will be getting much sleep."

"I'm sure you'll have plenty of time. Aidan told me the film would be practically all CGI."

"True, but he still needs to obtain the raw footage which he'll use as the basis. And you know how particular he is about camera angles."

Mozzie nodded grudgingly. "He's even more exacting than I am." He let out a long sigh, hopefully conceding defeat. "Charles Ireton spent the last two decades of his life in Manhattan. Any clues about the crown's location are most likely here. That list of names I'd found in his belongings begs for more research."

Neal would just as soon not be reminded of that vengeful spirit. Charles Ireton had been a bonesman in the late nineteenth century. A couple of months ago, his ghost returned to haunt Columbia University. He'd killed two people and was undoubtedly planning to do the same to Sara and Mozzie if they hadn't been rescued.

Mozzie's words were a good reminder, as if Neal needed any, to stay far away from anything associated with Ireton. The Winchesters swore that with his bones burned and his soul-object destroyed, he'd be unable to return to the upper world, but it would be just Neal's luck to find the Tudor Crown only to have it be haunted.

"How long will Sara be in town?" Mozzie asked.

"She returns to London on Tuesday night. The training conference that Sterling-Bosch is hosting lasts two days." Sara was scheduled to lead a workshop on the special challenges American agents faced in working overseas. Thanks to the conference, her travel was courtesy of her company. "We'll return to New York on Sunday afternoon, just in time for June's party to celebrate the Lunar Year of the Dog."

"June graciously invited Percy, but I told her he'd rather wait for his year. After all, the Year of the Rat is only two years away. Still, if Sara will be there, perhaps I can persuade him to attend." Mozzie picked up the sheet of notes lying on Neal's dinette table. "Morbid sensuality? What's this about?"

"Those are my notes for the workshop I'm giving next week. It's on one of the Pre-Raphaelites—Dante Gabriel Rossetti—and is the first one of the semester. Since Aidan's theme for his film is Electra's Pre-Raphaelite stained glass angels, the artist seems fitting."

Mozzie considered the illustrations in the open book. "I agree there's a distinct eroticism in Rossetti's paintings . . . To what do you attribute his morbidity?"

"The artist suffered from recurring bouts of depression after the death of his wife from a drug overdose. Many feel his addiction to drugs and alcohol is also reflected in his works."

"Hmm. A depressing topic, but something you'll excel at, what with your chivalrous tendencies. Most Arthurian romances are tragedies. I prefer a more positive outlook on life." Mozzie stopped to jab his finger in Neal's direction. "Don't let Rossetti get to you even if his first name is Dante!"

Neal laughed. "No danger of that, especially not with Sara arriving in a couple of days." He stopped to scribble a note. "I may use Electra's glass angels to contrast with Rossetti's depictions of women."

"You told me Electra has seven panels of angels. Who did Aidan choose to represent their living counterparts?"

"In addition to his fiancée Keiko, Aidan picked Sara, El, and Angela. Electra suggested her sister Maia as well as Chloe. That left one angel unspoken for, and Aidan offered the part to Electra."

"Too bad there's no role for a noble wizard. I would have been perfect. If only Aidan had listened to my advice on the script. Apparently he preferred Electra's suggestions to mine."

"Be reasonable, Mozz. How could Aidan decline her offer to help? She's not charging him anything for the use of her house, and she's letting us stay there."

Earlier, Neal might have had reservations about staying in Electra's house. At previous events, she'd sometimes flirted with him despite his refusal to play along. But now that would no longer be an issue. Once she saw that he and Sara were dating, Electra would realize he was unavailable.

**Burke Townhouse. Wednesday evening.**

"Will you go to New Haven as well?" June asked.

"I wish I could," El said, slipping off her flats and tucking her legs underneath her on the couch. Peter had taken Satchmo for a walk, giving her a chance to call June about the Arkham Files storyline. But June was more interested in what would happen in New Haven.

"I'm catering a wedding reception this weekend," El explained, "and it's too large for Yvonne to manage on her own. I'm not the only one who won't be there. Angela is also scheduled to be in the production but she and Michael are spending the weekend with her mom in D.C. Paige's birthday is on Saturday."

"Will you need to go up another time?"

"Aidan doesn't think it will be necessary. He can film us with green screen. Our parts are quite small. Most of the scenes will be digitalized versions of us. I hope I'm not too scary."

June chuckled. "Neal warned me Aidan was aiming for sci-fi horror. This could be one film you won't want your parents to see."

"Is that why Mozzie didn't write the script?" El asked.

"Mozzie told me that since there's so little dialog, Aidan was embarrassed to ask him. Angela helped Aidan with the music which he'll blend with synthesized sound effects. Neal described it as more of a space opera than a standard film. Travis supplied many of the ideas for the storyline. Electra also sent along several concepts."

"Aidan would have had a hard time denying her since she's providing so much assistance."

"In this case, it wasn't a problem. Neal said that Aidan liked the suggestions." June paused to take a sip of something, at this hour probably a cocktail. "Mozzie asked me about your role in the upcoming Arkham Files story."

El shifted her position on the couch. She knew it was coming. "Does he approve?" she asked uneasily.

"He's enthusiastic about it!" June chuckled. "He's already discussing directions we hadn't considered."

"Like what?" El asked, wariness giving way to curiosity.

"Haven't you always wanted an alien baby?"

"Please don't tell me he's thinking of Rosemary's baby."

"He may not, but Diana could. She's much more of a horror aficionado. And remember, Diana's been very coy about algolnium's side-effects."

"My baby could have birth defects?" El was already bonding with the little one. Surely Diana wouldn't hijack her idea. Then again, Diana had never demonstrated much in the way of a maternal instinct, and with an alien chemical like algolnium to play with, her imagination could wander off in uncharted directions. "I should get her a subscription to _Babytalk_."

She heard the scratching sounds of Satchmo's paws on the tile floor in the kitchen, an alert that Peter had arrived. June ended the call with a promise to find out what Diana had in mind.

"That was June on the phone," El said when Peter walked in. "We were discussing Aidan's film." Not a lie, she comforted herself, and as a member of the Round Table, it was her duty to not reveal spoilers.

"Has he settled on a title?" Peter asked, unsnapping Satchmo's leash.

" _Glass Angels_ is the latest version I've heard."

"He should let you know since you're appearing in the production." Peter sat down next to her and reached for her feet. El promptly extended them onto his lap. No one gave a better foot rub than her guy.

"I don't think it's a speaking part. He wants to take several stills of me with different expressions that he'll use for his digital work. Angela and I plan to go together to his studio next week so we can feed off each other's expressions."

He paused massaging her toes while he glanced at the script on the cocktail table. " _Leading Ladies_? I'm not familiar with it."

"It's the play the community players have decided on for our next production. I mentioned it to Electra and she was enthusiastic about our choice."

He smiled. "Anything which keeps your sponsor happy is a wise move. Will you be one of the leading ladies?"

"I have one of the main roles, but the leading ladies in the title refer to men disguised as women."

"Like the movie _Some Like It Hot_?"

"Yes, but with a Shakespearean bent as in _Twelfth Night_. It took us so long to decide on a play, I'm behind the 8-ball to memorize my lines."

"I hope you'll be able to take time out for consultations on your birthday gift," Peter said.

"You're already planning?" El stared at him in surprise. "My birthday is still weeks away."

Peter gave a self-satisfied smile that indicated he was sure she'd like his idea. "Long, long ago in the dawn of time, you'd asked about turning the extra room upstairs into your office. I'm going to make your dream come true."

"You are?" El hoped he thought her gasp was of joy and she quickly covered her mixed feelings by wrapping her arms around him. _Why did you have to pick that project?_

The ring of Peter's cell phone was a godsend. Was it unfair to hope it was so distracting, he'd forget about the idea?

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

Peter glanced at his cell phone display. "It's Dean." The last time he'd seen the Winchesters had been at the start of the year in Venice when they'd put an end to Alcy Lancaster, one of Astrena's so-called sisters. According to the lore on Astrena, Alcy was a demi-goddess, but to Peter, she'd always be remembered as the witch who nearly snuffed out his and Neal's lives along with the Winchesters.

For weeks, there'd been no reports of Astrena, the demon Crowley, or anything else supernatural. A sinking feeling in his gut told him the respite was over. Dean wasn't the type to call for chitchat.

"I have good news for a change," Dean said.

"You do?" For a hunter, good news could simply mean he was still alive. No reason to get excited.

"Chloe called. You know she and Maia have been working on a potion that would be effective against Astrena. They think they may have found it. They've made an oil which when applied to a silver sword may do the trick."

"How'd they find the formula?"

"It was in Maia's grimoire. The potion supposedly acts to banish supernatural entities to their natural home. Since Astrena rules over the celestial heavens, this should banish her to the stars."

"Does it have to be the sword of Saint Mercurius?"

"They're not sure," Dean admitted. "And we have no way of testing it. We figure we'll have the best odds by combining it with the sword of Saint Mercurius but this oil may work on any silver sword. Have you heard any suspicious reports of unexplained illnesses?"

"We've kept a close watch on the artist community in Manhattan, but trying to establish a link to Astrena has eluded us. Apparently, artists and musicians get sick all the time." Peter only partially stifled his sigh. "Astrena's usual MO is that they die a lingering death. There have been no signs among the target population of the rare blood disease which Neal and Sam contracted."

"And we haven't heard any reports about Crowley," Dean said, sounding surprisingly disappointed.

"The identity fraud ring he was linked to in Manhattan appears to be out of business. Curtis Hagen, the forger whom Crowley possessed, is still on the Bureau's most-wanted list, but no reports have surfaced." The criminal they'd known as the Dutchman was now controlled by a demon, but he still lived up to his nickname. Crowley was every bit as elusive as Hagen. Peter found himself in the distinctly uncomfortable position of not knowing whether he wanted the demon to be found. Prisons weren't built to contain supernatural entities.

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

Dean tapped the end-call button and slipped a cassette of "Witchy Woman" into the Impala's player.

Sam spared him a quick glance. He'd been driving since their last pit stop at a roadhouse south of Scranton. "I gather Peter didn't have any reports on Astrena."

Dean slouched deeper into the passenger seat. "No, and that's probably for the best. Do we really want to test an unproven potion on a Greek goddess?"

Sam frowned. "You should give the women more credit. In Venice, their spell repellent worked against Alcy. Thanks to Maia and Chloe, we were able to discover the sword of Saint Mercurius. Maia told me they're working on a way to remove the wards that prevent us from entering a building. We're saving lives because of them."

Dean rubbed his temple. Sam wasn't telling him anything he didn't know. "Doesn't it bother you that out of all the chicks in the world, the ones we hooked up with just happen to be witches?" When he'd met Chloe, she had no idea that she was a natural witch. Same thing with Maia. A geeky grad student in classics—what could be more harmless? Now the women were casting spells, making potions . . . "As Bobby would say, it ain't natural."

Sam winced. "Perhaps you're looking at it the wrong way. For them, it is. Peony helped them trace their ancestry to an ancient Celtic witch."

"Is calling Airmid a witch rather than a goddess supposed to make me feel better?"

"It does me," Sam mumbled in a low voice. "You don't think it weirds them out too? Maia's barely holding it together. That grimoire of hers, for instance. She assumed it was written in an ancient Greek dialect, but she decided to check with a linguist. And get this, he thinks it may be ancient Irish. She can't show him much of the text so she wasn't able to pursue it further, but she's in a panic over why she can read it."

Dean tried to wrap his head around the significance of what Sam described. This was the first Dean had heard about the mysterious script. By the way Sam was chewing his lower lip, it was clearly eating away at him. How often did Sam open up about what was bothering him? Like never? Dean had to cool it and not make him regret it. "Why do _you_ think she can?" he asked, keeping his voice calm.

Sam didn't answer but continued to stare at the dark highway in front of him. There was next to no traffic. They were driving through farmland with little likelihood of Bambi jumping in front of their car. Empathy wasn't Dean's strong suit, but he waited for Sam to cough up a reply.

"Maia mentioned that ancient Celts were known to have visited Greece. It's possible a Greek taught an Irish druid how to write and paid them to write the text using letters from the Greek alphabet." Sam shrugged as if to acknowledge how unlikely that sounded. "Chloe thinks it's a gift from Airmid."

Dean exhaled noisily. So the women were now on a Celtic goddess's bestie list? "I suppose that could account for it, but then you'd think Chloe could understand it too." Dean stopped abruptly. "Can she?" he asked, the words coming out more sharply than he'd intended.

Sam shook his head. "No, she can't. Chloe thinks Airmid may have realized she has no talent for foreign languages."

Dean grimaced. "I'm starting to like the druid-for-hire theory better."

"You could say witchcraft is in her blood like hunting is in ours and leave it at that. That's what I'm trying to do."

_Better than rolling over the log and finding a scorpion underneath_. Dean wasn't about to bring up the problems with bloodlines. The Winchesters weren't short of disreputable characters in their family tree, which, thanks to Henry's research, they were starting to learn even more about. Neal's cousin was convinced they shared a common ancestor, a man named Seth Winslow. If his theory was correct, the dude had abandoned his family and changed his name to Seth Winchester. Correspondence hinted that Seth Winslow might have encountered a vampire, but that didn't sound like enough to make him desert his family. Dean didn't need to know about any cowards in his family tree. They had enough issues with the here and now.

"I told Chloe we'd swing by after the job in Strasburg," Dean said. "Neal and his friends will be in New Haven that weekend. They're making a student film. I got interested when I heard it was starring several women and only a couple of guys."

Sam's chuckle was more genuine this time. "If it's for a course, I doubt strongly it's porn."

"Meaning it will be boring." The song had ended. Dean traded cassettes for "Black Magic Woman." Sam could read into it what he wanted to.

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

Henry pulled into what appeared to be the last available parking space at the National Zoo. Even on a frigid Thursday morning, the D.C. zoo was a popular place with a long line of school buses taking up much of the lot. The kiddos better have dressed warmly for their adventure.

Henry had driven the company car down to Baltimore the previous day. Win-Win had been bugging him for a while to swing by their home office. When his grandfather called about Henry's aunt being in town, he knew why he'd been procrastinating. Now he'd be able to meet with her and still have plenty of time for business.

"I'm looking forward to seeing Louisa," Pops said. "Ever since she took that job with the Royal Global Wildlife Society, her visits to Baltimore are few and far between."

"I don't remember her at all," Henry confessed, unbuckling his seatbelt.

"I'm not surprised. I looked through our old photo albums. You were only five the last time you saw her. That was at a Win-Win family picnic." Pops reached for the car handle. "She was sixteen and one of so many relatives, it would have been impossible to keep their names straight. She was a handful, I know that." He shook his head as he added, "It was a shame her father passed away before he saw what a success she'd made of herself."

Henry didn't remember Duncan well either. Pops' older brother had passed away shortly after the picnic. His British wife returned to the U.K. with their daughter. Henry was counting on Louisa knowing something about her great-grandfather Seth Winslow, the man who was also the probable great-great-grandfather of Dean and Sam Winchester.

Pops had already checked with his surviving siblings, and they had no information about Seth or his wife Leticia. Louisa was Henry's last hope. When Pops wrote her, she explained she'd soon be in town on business. She instructed them to go to the Conservation Biology Institute at the zoo where she was meeting with conservators. She'd left passes for them at the entrance.

Henry had researched her before leaving New York. She was an expert on marsupials and had spent the past several months in the field in Papua Guinea. This was one Winslow who had no interest in working at Win-Win.

"When are the Winchesters coming to Baltimore?" Pops asked as he slipped the visitor's pass lanyard over his neck. "Dean is supposedly the spitting image of you. I need to see that for myself."

"I'm sure I can work something out, but the nature of their jobs makes it hard to pin them down to an exact date."

"And?" Pops challenged.

"And they don't see the need unless something can be accomplished from it. I already sent you photos of them."

"Photos don't reveal anything about their character. You know that. If you were in my shoes, you'd be making the exact same request."

He was right, but no need to admit it, not when Henry had the upper hand. "You'll have to make it worth their while. They're not going to drop in just to satisfy your curiosity."

Pops shrugged. "That's a challenge I accept. I was never into genealogy. They could spark a new hobby. Julia keeps telling me I need a new interest for when it's too cold to sail."

His wife was right, and that was part of the reason Henry wasn't pushing for Pops to meet the Winchesters. If Pops learned about the nature of their work, would he want to get involved? An octogenarian hunter was the last thing the Winchesters—or Winslows—needed.

Louisa had left word at the reception desk for them to be shown into a small conference room. When they went in, she was sitting at the table, typing on her laptop.

"Uncle Graham, Tiger, it's been too long!" she exclaimed, giving them each a hug. Louisa was wearing an oversized turtleneck and loose-fitting khakis which looked like they'd gone through a thousand washings. Her ash-brown hair was blunt cut with long bangs.

"That nickname was retired when I was about eight," Henry said with a chuckle, "but when you say it, it sounds appropriate."

"Thanks for meeting me here," she said. "I don't have much time. I'm due to leave for a lecture series in Australia this weekend." She'd barely finished speaking when a knock was heard on the door.

A brown-skinned man with tight curly hair poked his head in. "Sorry to interrupt, but Miguel asked if we could move up the meeting."

She frowned as she considered for a moment. "Okay, but give me thirty minutes first."

"I remember you liked to talk fast," Pops said when the man left. "I hope that means you'll be able to answer our questions."

She nodded. "I can fill in a few of the gaps. When I was in high school, I wrote a paper on the Winslow family tree. As part of the assignment, I interviewed granddad's sister, Esther." She turned to Henry. "Tiger, her brother was Henry Winslow. They were Seth's children."

"Was her brother still alive?" Henry asked, the nickname starting to grow on him.

"No, he'd passed several years ago. Esther was in her nineties but mentally sharp as a tack. She'd helped take care of her mother Leticia in her senior years. When I got Uncle Graham's email, I rummaged through my files and found the paper I wrote." She pulled out a manila folder from her briefcase. "This is a photocopy, so you don't need to take notes."

"Was there anything about vampires?" Pops asked. "Tiger found a letter where Leticia said Seth was having nightmares about them."

"Seth was convinced vampires were real and that they'd embarked on a killing spree," Louisa agreed. "In the year he disappeared, there was a rash of murders where the bodies were horribly mutilated."

"Was this in Philadelphia where Seth lived?" Henry asked.

"Not only there but Baltimore as well. Seth had attended Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore and maintained close ties with several friends from his university days. He majored in classical languages. After graduation, he obtained a post at the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia. That's where most of the Winslows were living. "

"Did Esther know for how long Leticia was worried something was wrong?" Henry asked.

"It must have been for at least a few months. When Seth died, his son Henry was five years old. Esther was nine. She remembers her father making several trips to Baltimore. Her mother told her one of his best friends from college died."

"Do you know who that was?" Pops asked.

She nodded. "I wrote down his name, intending to ask his family if they'd heard any stories, but I never got around to it. Chester Ratherston is the friend's name. After Chester's death, Seth grew increasingly nervous and wouldn't let the children play outside. He insisted that the family not go out at night. Esther was fond of ghost stories as a child. She was convinced that her dad feared a ghost was haunting them. Apparently the catalyst for Seth's disappearance was when the family living next to the Winslows was found murdered. The next week, he left the house in the morning and was never seen again. Esther asked her mom if a ghost had been involved, and that's when Leticia told her about the vampires."

"Esther wasn't the only one who liked ghost stories," Pops noted. "I haven't forgotten how much you liked to scare the family."

She laughed. "I was a holy terror! Do you remember, Tiger?"

"I must have blocked out the memories," Henry grumbled.

She smiled. "Just as well. You might hate me. During that family picnic, some of us turned Win-Win headquarters into a haunted house."

That event had been shortly before Neal was sent away to WITSEC. As she described the prank she pulled, Henry realized that might have been when he became convinced ghosts were real. Later he had dreams about a little boy he'd known who'd disappeared. He'd convinced himself he was seeing the ghost of a baby brother who'd died. Henry felt a bond of sympathy for his great-grandfather Henry. Did he think his father had turned into a ghost?

Why was Seth so afraid? The answer could be somewhere in Baltimore. Many of the Winslows had moved to Baltimore when Win-Win was established. They'd chosen the location because of its proximity to D.C., or so he thought, but was there another reason?

"Do you happen to have any personal items from Seth?" Henry asked. He'd already struck out with Pops. Henry hadn't held out much hope since Pops had never shown any interest in family memorabilia. Louisa's father was the eldest of the siblings. Perhaps he'd inherited something.

"My father didn't have anything, but when I visited Esther, she gave me Seth's gold watch. She insisted I take it. She was thrilled to have a family member interested in the old stories." Louisa pulled out a small leather box from her bag and gave it to him.

Henry opened the box to find an ornate gold pocket watch. It was engraved with the initials S.W.

"Do you mind if I borrow it?" Henry asked.

"Not at all. You should keep it. I felt bad at taking it, but it clearly meant a lot to Esther that someone wanted to know about her family and I didn't want to hurt her feelings. I don't have any children. This should stay with the Winslows."

His prospects of having kids weren't good either, but at least he could keep it with the other family items in the Win-Win vault. The bigger question was what to do with it. Did he really want to call upon the spirit of Seth Winslow?

* * *

_You can find pins of Astrena's stained-glass angels on my Pinterest board. What is her fascination with the Pre-Raphaelites? Is there a sinister significance to Rossetti's morbid sensuality? Clues are forthcoming in the next chapter._ _Henry has his own mystery to solve, but he's adopting a cautious approach. His childhood memory of Neal as a ghost is described in Penna Nomen's vignette Spring Break._

_Many thanks to Penna for taking time out from her novel to give me beta help and expert advice on the Winslow family tree. She's also provided us with an update on her novel in her new blog post, "[Novel Progress: homes and clothing of the future](https://pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com/2020/04/novel-progress-homes-and-clothing-of.html)."_

_Background to Crossed Lines for new readers:_  
_In the pre-canon Caffrey Conversation AU created by Penna Nomen, FBI Special Agent Peter Burke recruited con artist and expert forger Neal Caffrey in 2003 when he was 24. In exchange for a confession, he was given immunity for past crimes and started working for the FBI as a consultant at the White Collar task force in New York City. Sam and Dean Winchester are demon-hunting brothers. Sam is roughly the same age as Neal. Dean is four years older than Sam. Peter is fifteen years older than Neal. For those familiar with the Supernatural timeline, the action is set early in the second season of Supernatural. The Crossed Lines page on our blog has more background information about the stories._

_Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation: [pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com](http://www.pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com)_  
_Chapter Visuals and Music: Glass Angels board on the Caffrey Conversation Pinterest website:[pinterest.com/caffreycon](http://www.pinterest.com/caffreycon)_  
_Twitter:[@silbrith](https://twitter.com/silbrith)_


	2. Serenade

**On the Road. Friday, January 27, 2006.**

"What awaits us in New Haven?" Sara asked. "Vampires, ghosts, or witches?"

Neal smiled at her enthusiasm as he merged the Jaguar into the traffic on the Henry Hudson Parkway. "None of the above. Halloween is almost a year away."

"You can't be sure," Sara said, her smile broadening. "If the reports you gave me are true, all of your previous road trips over the past year have involved supernatural entities. Why should this be any different?"

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"Not in the slightest," she declared. "Perhaps there's a little hunter blood in me. I brought my baton along, although I suppose it should be in silver. Perhaps Chloe can whip me up a potion to use on it."

Neal liked her attitude. If Peter were along, he'd be groaning about demons potentially lurking on the Yale campus.

"Our first road trip as an official couple!" Sara sighed happily. "I must say, you look very dashing behind the wheel."

June had let him borrow her car, so he could drive Sara to New Haven in style. "You wouldn't prefer something sportier? Like, for instance, an Aston Martin?"

"You'd rock whatever you drove, even a Model T. Then I could wear an immense motoring hat with a veil. I think I'd like that." 

Sara had arrived the previous evening from London and stayed overnight in the loft. June kept her teasing to a minimum about the con they'd played on the matchmakers the previous fall, but she insisted they keep notes of their filmmaking adventure. An account of their time in New Haven was slated for her Lunar New Year's party on Sunday.

"What will my costume be like?" Sara asked. "Aidan told me to bring a leotard and tights but didn't provide any other details."

"That's because the costumes will be CGI. Basically all he needs us for is our movements and facial expressions. I'm not even sure if we'll be recognizable in the final product. This may be the first mashup of sci-fi horror, abstract expressionism, and fractal cinematography ever attempted. The camera work is so complicated, a computer is needed to coordinate the lenses. While Aidan shoots the scenes, Travis will be operating the auxiliary cameras."

"You've made me feel better about my lack of preparation. I haven't even read the script."

"No one has. Aidan's kept most of the details a dark secret. Electra knows more than anyone else, and I have no idea how her tastes run."

"Surely you have a general idea."

Neal shrugged. "I know I'll play a Yale grad student and that it's set in the present day. Aidan's given me a thumbnail sketch of my character since I'll have the most acting to do."

"Tell me more about this grad student," she murmured, resting her head on his shoulder. "Is he seeing anyone?"

"Only in his dreams. A strikingly gorgeous redhead that he can't get out of his mind."

"You're putting me on!"

"Not me. This was Aidan's idea. Well, Electra added a few bits. Aidan intended for me to be haunted by an ethereal spirit, but she suggested a dream sequence would be more effective. He liked the idea since it would give him more opportunities for surrealist imagery." Neal's preference had been for the spirit but he'd been overruled. Even a fearful ghost would be better than someone toying with his dreams. He'd gotten Aidan's assurance that the dream sequences would be brief glimpses and simple depictions of Sara's idealized face. No nightmare scenarios.

"I hope we have a romantic date in the film," Sara said.

"No such luck. We'll need to make our own. In the film, I pass Electra's house daily on my way to classes. I catch glimpses of you in the cupola of the house and am filled with an insatiable desire to learn more about you."

She placed her hand in his lap. "I like the direction this is heading. Do you drive to class in a Jaguar?"

"No I ride a bike—I'm very athletic, you know."

"Really? I may need reminders of your ability over the next few days."

Neal flashed her a smile, keeping his eyes—mainly—on the road. "Why wait? We have plenty of time. There's a rest stop coming up."

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

Sara instinctively knew she'd love road trips with Neal, but she hadn't realized she'd get the confirmation so soon. The "rest and relaxation" stop they'd just had would help to make up for a weekend that was bound to be deficient in romance. Between the tight filming schedule and the number of people in the house, she expected to feel like she was back in college. On the other hand, Neal had already proven himself adept at creating opportunities. If nothing else, there was always the Jaguar.

"You'll probably be staying with the men while I bunk with Keiko," she said, preparing herself for the inevitable.

"Why would you think that? The house is huge, and Electra's been very accommodating. She has four bedrooms available. When she asked Aidan about sleeping arrangements, he explained that Keiko was his fiancée and they'd like to stay together. Without any prompting on his part, she then asked if any of the others were in relationships."

"That was thoughtful of her." Sara paused, wondering how much she should mention. She'd met Electra at an after-theater party last October. It had been opening night for a production of _Bell, Book and Candle_ where Elizabeth played the role of Gillian the witch. Back then, Sara and Neal were keeping their dates a secret, and she remembered all too well the looks Electra tossed Neal's way. Sara had teased him about it afterward, and he said that she'd been making advances for a while. "How did she react when she heard about me?"

"Aidan didn't mention anything." He reached over and clasped her hand. "If any issue comes up, let me know."

"I'm sure there won't be. I can't fault her for trying, and she didn't know that you and I were dating." 

When they arrived at Electra's house, Sara realized why Aidan was so enthusiastic about including it in the film. The Victorian extravaganza was painted in muted shades of gray. The cupola resembled a turban perched on top of a tower-like projection. Sara stood on the sidewalk for a moment to admire the architecture.

"Aidan's going to modify the appearance with additional gingerbread and turrets," Neal explained as he pointed out the features. "He'll also change the color to smoky lavender. One of the assignments of the project was to transform physical appearances, so he'll include before and after shots of all the design elements."

"And I'll be in the cupola looking down at you when you bike by?"

He nodded. "I'll catch a glimpse of you and be mesmerized."

"Is that when I turn into a siren and bend you to my will?"

"Aidan hasn't told me about that part, but I like the sound of it." He beckoned toward the door. "Shall we go inside?"

Electra couldn't have been more gracious when she greeted them at the door. She led them into a luxurious room she called the salon where Aidan was filming Keiko. Richard and Travis stood on either side of him, shooting with auxiliary cameras. Wires and cables snaked between racks of light on tripods, but Sara was more interested in the elegantly appointed interior. The stained glass panels sparkled in luminescent colors against the dark oak paneling of the room. Electra had furnished the space with a mixture of contemporary sofas and antiques. One small cabinet held a netsuke collection.

Aidan only spared them the briefest of glances. "I only have a few shots left to capture. You're up next, Neal. I've got your bike on the driveway. Be ready in ten."

"Ignore his bellows," Keiko advised as she gave a goofy smile to his camera. "That's what I do."

Electra joked about the chaos which had been inflicted on her salon, saying that she was taking photos to keep as mementos. "Let me show you to your room before Aidan steals you away," she said. "You'll stay in what was formerly Maia's bedroom."

Their suite was furnished in shades of mauve and plum, with darker violet hangings around the wrought-iron four-poster bed. An overstuffed loveseat and ottoman vied for space with walnut antique furniture. Maia must have felt like a princess.

On the bed lounged a pale Siamese cat. When she caught sight of Neal, she took a flying leap, darting over to rub against his legs.

Neal knelt to stroke her. "You remember me, ma petite?"

"I hope you don’t mind cats," Electra murmured to Sara. "Daphne and Maia are very close. Daphne still thinks this is Maia's room, and I knew Neal wasn't allergic."

"And I'm not either," Sara said, wiggling her fingers at Daphne. "Neal told me about her. We brought some catnip mice along in our suitcase."

"She'll love them, but don't hesitate to keep your door closed if you'd rather not have your clothes adorned with white fur."

"Neal, what's taking you so long?" Aidan bellowed from downstairs.

Neal gave a helpless smile at Sara as he placed their bag on the luggage rack. "Duty calls."

Electra linked an arm through Sara's. "Come, my dear. Let me show you the rest of the house."

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

"Sorry to tear you away," Aidan called out from the foot of the stairs, "but we need to film the outside shots before the rain starts."

"I heard the forecast on the radio as we drove into town," Neal said as he jogged down the steps. "But we'll have all day tomorrow."

"That may seem like a lot of time to you," Travis said, "but you haven't seen Aidan's schedule."

"Or the script," Neal said pointedly.

"Am I done now?" Keiko asked. "I'd like to join Electra and Sara."

Aidan cast a harried eye on his clipboard. "Just a few more shots, and remember you and Electra are also scheduled for this evening."

She frowned. "You already shot us yesterday."

"Yeah, but after review I realized I need to make some changes."

Richard pulled Neal aside as Aidan went into a detailed explanation of what facial expressions Keiko was meant to convey. "Help Travis and me with the lights, and we'll give you the scoop on the story."

"Deal," Neal said readily as he grabbed a tripod.

"Aidan would take three hours to explain it, but here's the cheat sheet version," Richard said, coiling a light cable. "You'll be so enchanted by Sara's image in the cupola that you'll decide to knock on the door."

"That's the scene with El and Angela," Travis said. "They play two sisters. Aidan will film that part in New York. At first, they seem completely normal."

"But you know that can't last," Richard interjected, looking positively gleeful over the prospect.

"Is this where the horror starts?" Neal asked, sighing inwardly.

"No, but you won't have long to wait," Travis said as he opened the front door. "The sisters say that there aren't any redheads in the house, but there was one who used to live here. They show you a painting by Rossetti and you realize that's the woman you were seeing in the cupola."

"Which painting?" Neal asked, intrigued by the connection to Rossetti.

"Lady Lilith," Aidan said.

Neal groaned. "Now I know where the horror's coming from."

"Why do you say that?" Travis asked. "I've seen the painting. It shows a voluptuous woman combing her hair. She doesn't look evil."

"Maybe not on the surface, but Lilith is not someone to mess around with. I'd researched the painting in preparation for my upcoming workshop. According to ancient legends, Lilith was the first wife of Adam. She was believed to be a demon temptress, a seducer of men, and a murderess. The white roses in the painting symbolize cold, sensuous love. The poppies represent the forgetfulness that Lilith instills in her victims so they don't remember what happened."

Richard wasn't fazed but then he found horror funny. "Aidan isn't attaching any particular significance to Lilith. When he described the siren-like appeal of Sara, Electra suggested the painting. She has a copy we can use."

Neal braced himself to hear the rest. "Does my character know about Lilith's history?"

Travis shook his head. "In the film, the painting is supposed to be of the former owner. Forget that you know it was painted by Rossetti. It's just a portrait. But you now think the woman in the cupola was a ghost. The sisters encourage you to call a psychic to determine the truth. That's Chloe's role."

"We've heard of her experience with summoning spirits," Richard added. "She'll be able to reenact an earlier performance."

Neal had been present when Chloe called forth a Native American shaman. Aidan had some wild ideas, but surely he wouldn't encourage her to summon a real spirit. "Then what happens?"

"Your character's on a downhill run to disaster," Travis warned. "Chloe is able to summon the woman—Silvia's the name Aidan's chosen—and one of the glass panels comes to life. At first, Silvia is beautiful, but within a few minutes she's transformed into a horrific alien. Keiko, Electra, and Maia then emerge from other panels. _Bad things_ happen which I'll let Aidan describe."

If they were too gruesome for Travis to want to talk about, Neal didn't want to hear them. "How does it end?"

"You're taken back to their homeworld," Richard said. "You'll be glad to hear that your suffering won't go on for much longer since by then you'll be comatose."

"That's not fair!" Neal protested.

"Who knows what the end product will be like," Richard continued, ignoring Neal's protest. "What with the fractal distortions, I doubt anyone will recognize you. My big moment comes at the end. The seven women—Sara, Keiko, Elizabeth, Angela, Maia, Electra, and Chloe—transform once more into the glass panels. The final scene shows me walking by the house and gazing up at the cupola, the inference being that the cycle's about to repeat."

"And you designed the women's alien appearance?" Neal asked.

Richard hesitated, "Yeah, but I was given strict instructions. You shouldn't blame me for how they look. Who knew Keiko had a desire to appear so demonic?"

"On the positive side, the film is only thirty minutes long," Travis said.

Meaning that it might not be so horrific for the audience, but at Aidan's typical rate of speed, it would be a long, painful weekend for the actors. Now more than ever, Neal was glad Sara was along. He was going to need a lot of comforting.

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

It was late afternoon by the time Aidan finished filming Neal. As soon as they were done, Aidan, Richard, and Travis trooped upstairs with Sara for the cupola scene. Neal would have watched the shoot but there wasn't room for him in the small chamber.

Instead he grabbed a cup of coffee from the coffeemaker in the kitchen which Electra kept supplied with fresh brew. He wasn't familiar with the blend. It reminded him of Sumatran but there was an overtone of dark earthiness to it which made it seem more refreshing than espresso. He'd love to buy a package to take home, but their hostess said it had been a gift from a friend and she didn't know of any local suppliers.

Keiko was passing the time by sketching in the salon. When Neal sat down, she held up a drawing. "What do you think? Genji meets the Pre-Raphaelites?"

She'd recast one of the stained glass angels into a Japanese aristocratic beauty of the Heian period. The layers of silk kimonos were rendered as expressionistic shards. "The Pre-Raphaelites transformed medieval art," he said. "You're doing the same with classical Japanese works."

"I'd like to make a pair. One of Lady Murasaki. The other of Prince Genji. They will be part of my master's exhibition."

"I wonder if we should install a Pre-Raphaelites alcove," he said. "Then I could display my paintings next to them."

"I thought your focus was on rivers."

"It was originally, but Myra recommended I add more diversity. She encouraged me to do two expressionist works based on Rossetti's paintings." Neal studied the glass panels for a moment. "Maybe it's the effect of Aidan's script, but those angels look profoundly sad."

"They do to me, too," she admitted. "With the music instruments they're holding, it's easy to imagine they're playing funeral music. Aidan intends to weave Beethoven's funeral march into his synthesized music." She looked up and smiled at their hostess who was entering the room. "That was Electra's suggestion."

"I remember your love of Beethoven from my last visit," Neal told her. Electra had played the composer's chamber music during dinner. "You have a portrait of him as a young man. I didn't see it in the hallway."

"I've moved it upstairs," Electra said. "I have it next to an early square piano which dates back to the early 1850s. Would you like to see it?"

"I'd love to."

"You go ahead," Keiko said. "I'd like to finish the drawing before the idea escapes me."

"You must let me see it again when you're finished," Electra said. "Having so many creative spirits around makes my house come alive."

Electra's bedroom was painted in dove gray. Her bed was draped in plum silk. Against the muted tones were oil paintings with ornate gold frames.

Neal's eye was immediately drawn to the alcove on the left side of the bed. The square piano was made of rosewood and filled up most of the space. The portrait of Beethoven that he'd remembered was hanging on the wall behind the piano. Propped upright in the corner was an unusual instrument that resembled a lyre but the shape was much more elaborate.

"That looks like the instrument beside Beethoven in the painting," he commented. "I'm not familiar with it."

"It's called a lyre-guitar and was quite popular during Beethoven's time. Although it resembles a lyre, its tuning is the same as a classical guitar. Marie Antoinette reportedly enjoyed playing it."

"Do you as well?" he asked. When she hesitated, he added, "I'd love to hear it."

"Perhaps another time. When I showed Richard the room, he tried it out. He told me you play both the piano and guitar. The two of you should give us a performance. I don't play piano and seldom have the opportunity to hear it."

"I'm not classically trained like Richard," Neal demurred. "I'm afraid I wouldn't do justice to it."

"The notes have a crisp brightness which I find very appealing. You should give it a try."

Neal sat down at the piano and played a few arpeggios. The tone was lighter and thinner than that of a modern piano. He began to sing "Gravity" by Coldplay. The solemnity of the piece reminded him of Beethoven. Electra sat down beside him but as he sang he pictured Sara next to him. The lyrics spoke of the beating of his heart and gravity pulling him closer to her. Throughout the piece, he felt the weight of Beethoven staring down at him. The ferocity of his expression reminded him of something undefinable. Did he disapprove?

" _Maaorrao!_ " Daphne's loud cry as she jumped on the piano bench startled Neal out of his reverie.

"Sorry, ma petite," he said, stopping to pet her. "I didn't notice you come in." Daphne's meow had dispersed the strange mood he'd been in. Could he blame it on Aidan's script? Had he been seeking a peaceful moment before the horror his character was about to endure?

Electra's rueful smile was a little forced. "I should have shut the door." She scooped the Siamese onto her lap. "Daphne is why I keep the lid down on the piano. What she can do with strings is not to be visualized."

The cat slit her eyes and gave a low rumbling purr as if to concur.

Neal stood up. "Thank you for allowing me to play the piano." Aidan must have started filming Sara's scenes by now and he wanted to watch.

"Don't forget, you and Richard owe me a duet," Electra reminded him, standing up as well. "You're welcome to practice here any time."

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

That night, Neal was awakened to the sound of piano music coming from Electra's room. He rubbed his eyes and focused on the clock at the nightstand. Who could be playing at 2:15 in the morning?

Sara was still asleep. He slid away from her back and slipped out of the bed. Before opening the door, he listened to the music for a moment. He recognized the piece. It was a Beethoven sonata—one of Mozzie's favorites. As if on cue, the name popped into his head. The Pathétique. It didn't sound like a recording. The timbre was identical to Electra's piano. She said she didn't play. The only other person in the house who played a keyboard instrument was Aidan, but he stuck to digital keyboards, and his knowledge of classical music was nonexistent.

Drawn to the music, Neal crept into the hallway. Electra's door was wide open. A soft light illuminated the room. Their hostess was nowhere to be seen.

Neal peered around the corner to observe the pianist. He looked exactly like the image of Beethoven in Electra's portrait. The man appeared to be in his thirties and was wearing a black frock coat and white linen shirt with an elaborately tied white neckcloth. It was difficult to pay attention to his visual appearance though when such glorious music was being produced.

Was he a ghost? Had the rift to Oblivion opened up? When Beethoven noticed him, he stopped playing with a bang. He glared at Neal, his eyes blazing like hot coals. "Remember!" he hissed in German.

"Remember what?" Neal whispered, the hair on the back of his neck prickling.

"Remember!" the pianist insisted, continuing to stare at him.

"I don't understand. That you're here? Did we meet before?"

"Darling, wake up." Sara's voice sounded in his ear as he felt his shoulder being shaken.

Neal gazed around, breathing heavily. He was in bed. Sara was beside him. There was no music. No ghost. It was just a dream.

She stroked the hair off his forehead. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"I don't know what it was," he said wearily. He eased his head into the soft pillow, embarrassed at having awakened her.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Would it help? He collected his thoughts. The group had reviewed the day's footage until late in the evening. Before calling it quits for the night, he and Richard had performed a few pieces on Electra's piano and lyre-guitar.

"The piano in Electra's room made more of an impression on me than I realized," he admitted. "I dreamed Beethoven was performing one of his sonatas on it. He kept telling me to remember . . ." He closed his eyes. "The dream was so vivid. Even now, I feel like I'm supposed to remember something but I have no idea what." He heard a scratching at the door and flinched, his eyes snapping open.

"I bet that's Daphne," Sara said. "She probably doesn't like being shut out. I had a cat when I was a child who acted the same way."

Neal smiled. "Go ahead and let her in . . . as long as you don't mind sharing the bed."

"Our sleigh bed will be even cozier," she declared. His dream quickly faded as he watched Sara's graceful figure cross the room. As soon as she opened the door, Daphne scampered in and jumped on top of the bed, purring loudly.

"Silk and cat claws don't mix," Neal reminded Sara, propping himself up on an elbow.

She glanced down at her mink silk nightgown. "You're right." She slipped one strap off her shoulder then the other. "Can I help you forget the dream?"

"What dream?" Neal held the sheet up for her to climb in as the gown slipped onto the floor. "I hope you're not sleepy."

* * *

_Notes: Was Beethoven really just a dream? "[Questions about Beethoven](https://pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com/2020/05/glass-angels-questions-about-beethoven.html)" is the subject of my blog post this week. The [painting of Beethoven](https://www.pinterest.com/silbrith/glass-angels/paintings/) is on my Glass Angels Pinterest board. There's also a pin of a [lyre-guitar](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/398639004517622911/). Next week Dean and Sam arrive in New Haven, and another woman demands Neal's attention._

_Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation: _ [ _pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com_ ](http://www.pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com) __  
Chapter Visuals and Music: Glass Angels board on the Caffrey Conversation Pinterest website:[ _pinterest.com/caffreycon_ ](http://www.pinterest.com/caffreycon) _  
_ _Twitter:_ [ _@silbrith_ ](https://twitter.com/silbrith)


	3. Remember

**New Haven. Friday, January 27, 2006.**

It was lunchtime by the time Sam pulled to a stop in front of Maia's house. The small white cottage was now also Chloe's home. Maia had invited her to move in when Chloe was hired by a local software company to write a user guide.

"How much do you plan to tell them?" Sam asked Dean uneasily.

Dean frowned. "I haven't decided. It could be instructive for them to get the uncensored version."

"And also scary." 

"Hey, this is the real world, Sam. Chloe and Maia can't live in their private sitcom fantasyland."

Sam couldn't argue with his reasoning. What he and Dean had confronted had been a revelation to him too. The women already knew about Astrena and her witch-sisters. Perhaps they wouldn't be too upset at the news. Conceivably, they could react better than he had.

Dean unlocked the front door. Maia had given them keys to the cottage. She insisted they consider it their home too. Their new digs came with a dog who at the moment was demanding attention. Maia's wolfhound Tatyana was now half-grown. As a guard dog, she was hopeless. But if you wanted someone to curl up with and watch a movie, she and her mistress couldn't be beat.

"Miss us, girl?" Sam asked, stroking her head.

"Of course she did, and we did too," Maia answered. "You caught us transplanting herbs. Come join us in the kitchen."

The name was a misnomer. The tiny kitchen had been transformed into a combination greenhouse and stillroom with plants and jars of herbs taking up almost all the available counter space. Maia made no pretense of liking to cook. It was another trait she shared with Chloe. Whenever Sam and Dean were there, they mainly lived off takeouts. But the fridge was always stocked with beer, a generous variety of snacks were stored next to the containers of herbal tea, and at least one pie was on the counter.

The pies came from Wisteria Brigham's inn near the university. Dean was well acquainted with Wisteria and her famous pies. Chloe used to stay at her inn until she moved in with Maia. Like her sister Peony, Wisteria was the head of her local Wicca coven.

"We brought lunch with us," Dean said, dropping the bag of jumbo burgers onto the kitchen table next to the potting soil before wrapping his arms around Chloe.

Maia tilted her head up to Sam to kiss him. "You should have called. We would have cleaned up the kitchen and ourselves too." They had aprons tied on. Maia smelled of rosemary, sage, and other herbs Sam wasn't familiar with but thought of as Maia's distinctive scent.

After ample time for thorough kisses, they made quick work of removing the plants from the table and sitting down for lunch.

"The beer is from a new microbrewery in town," Chloe said. "They came out with a new Pilsner—Dark Magic. It sounded perfect for us."

Chloe's enthusiasm made Sam feel even more like a louse. He could tell by Dean's forced smile, he felt the same way.

Not wanting to ruin lunch, they managed to keep the conversation focused on Maia and Chloe's latest potion. When applied to a silver sword, it would hopefully banish Astrena back to the stars.

Chloe stood up and retrieved a small glass vial. "This is the oil. You should spread it on the sword of Saint Mercurius before confronting Astrena, but it will only maintain its potency for about an hour."

"The formula isn't specific to Astrena," Maia added. "It should banish any non-human entity to their homeworld and make it impossible for them to leave."

Dean grunted. Sam knew what his unspoken message was. They'd seen too many supposedly impossible things happen. Given the right set of circumstances, the impossible could once more come back to bite them.

"Your oil worked to shield us from Alcy Lancaster's spells in Venice," Dean said, not raising any reservations. "We also used it a couple of days ago in Pennsylvania." He held the bottle up to the sunlight streaming in from the patio door. The oil had a slight bluish cast. "I bet this will do the trick too." He nodded at Sam. "If we can ever find her."

Chloe absently twirled a long strand of her auburn hair. Sam had learned the action was a sign she was nervous about something, and he didn't need to be a mind reader to know it was. "You told me you confronted a witch in Strasburg," she prompted.

Dean nodded. "Um-hum."

Maia didn't say anything but clasped Sam's hand under the table. Maia was still uncomfortable about being called a witch but Chloe embraced the term, partly in homage to her distant ancestors.

"What happened?" Chloe asked.

Dean took a swig of beer before answering. "We heard about a man who had been killed in bizarre circumstances." He shot a glance at Maia. "We're still eating. Trust me, you don't want to hear the details. It was no ordinary crime."

_Not unless a man's intestines routinely transform into flesh-eating worms_. The thought still made Sam's stomach turn.

"After asking around, we learned he was suspected of cheating on his wife Karen," Dean continued. "His alleged mistress had also disappeared. We found her corpse in the woods."

_With her it was snakes_. Dean already had a phobia about snakes. Now it was worse.

Maia bit her lip. "The wife was a witch."

"Yeah, she was," Dean agreed, keeping his tone low key. "We spied on her and observed her making hex bags. That's when things went south. We confronted Karen. She'd been possessed by a demon. Your oil saved us from the spells she attempted to cast on us till we had time to exorcise her."

"Did Karen survive?" Chloe asked nervously, looking shaken by Dean's account.

Sam shook his head. "We tried to save her, but she'd been injured too badly."

"She returned to her senses long enough to explain what had happened," Dean added. "She'd been practicing magic for a long time but wasn't very successful. The demon approached her in the guise of a friend. Claimed she'd help Karen use her powers for good, but with every spell she learned, she wanted more. She said the lure of dark magic was too powerful to resist."

"And now you're worried the same thing will happen to us," Chloe said, her hazel eyes scanning his face.

Dean shrugged. "I worry about a lot of stuff. But, yeah, that's one of them."

"We have no intention of using dark magic," Maia said. "Our potions and herbs are to help others, not hurt them. We're even thinking about opening an herb shop." She gestured at the clumps of plant leaves and stalks hanging from drying racks. "We can make people healthier, reduce their anxiety, and yes, if necessary, remove curses . . ." Her words trailed off, as she mutely pleaded at Sam for understanding. Tatyana seemed to sense her mistress's anxiety and whimpered as she pressed against her legs.

Chloe took a breath and added, "Our goals are the same as yours. We want to save lives too."

"And we're grateful for your help," Sam said. "I might not be alive if you hadn't freed me from Astrena's curse."

Dean set down his beer and crossed his arms on the table, locking his eyes on Chloe. "I'm not arguing with the good you do. But, just like with us, you have to be conscious that the tools you use are dangerous. And I'm not saying you don't already know it," he quickly added before she could protest. "Our guns and blades can be used to kill innocents. They make tempting targets for our enemies."

"The dangers you'll encounter will come in many forms," Sam added. "There are demons who would love to exploit your talents."

"But there's an even greater threat," Dean said bluntly. "As your powers increase, you may start to think you're invincible. You start taking more chances. You'll be tempted to use dark magic, thinking that you're able to control it. You'll believe your objective is worth the risk." He shrugged. "I don't want to get on your case. Just be careful, both of you."

"In case you haven't noticed, Dean and I have become very fond of you," Sam added, trying to reduce the level of tension which was threatening to suck out the oxygen in the small room.

Dean nodded emphatically. "We're counting on you staying around for a while, not hooking up with some handsome demon—"

"No chance of that, Ravensword," Chloe said, breaking into a smile. "When I go over to Electra's to film my scene, all the magic will be playacting. I'll need to leave in an hour, but I shouldn't be gone long."

"I filmed my scene this morning," Maia said. "I've never been part of a film production. Aidan's promised to give us copies when it's done."

"It's not X-rated, by any chance?" Dean asked with a suggestive leer, his comment wiping away any lingering discomfort over their earlier sobering remarks.

Sam hoped they could stay around for a couple of days before taking off again. They'd need to stock up on their supply of essence preparations. Now in addition to their weapons and holy water, Fang No. 5 and spell repellent were must-haves. Astrena might not be around, but he and Dean could test the banishment oil on the next demon they encountered.

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

_Remember_. Neal pressed his fingers into his temple. What was it Beethoven wanted him to remember?

He couldn't get the dream out of his head even when he sat at Electra's dining table, the Rossetti painting of Lilith in front of him.

Was the order a leftover fragment from the virtual-reality brainwashing he'd endured in L.A.? Back then, Klaus kept telling him to remember the lies which had been planted in his brain. Neal's therapist had explained that it was inevitable the recollections would occasionally come back as dream sequences, but this time felt different. Neal had the nagging feeling he'd overlooked something. It was similar to the prickling he got in his fingers when he'd forgotten to take something into account during a heist. What had he missed?

"I know the lady's fascinating, but surely you've stared at her long enough," Richard said, coming up from behind him. "Sara may become jealous."

Neal smiled sheepishly. He'd taken refuge in the dining room while Aidan shot a scene with Sara and Electra. Neal's part was done, at least until Aidan reviewed the footage and decided everything needed to be reshot.

Richard sat down next to him. "Before I noticed the painting, I thought you might be thinking of pieces to play for tonight's jam session."

"We were a hit last night, weren't we?" With virtually no time to rehearse, he and Richard had managed to throw together an impromptu concert of a few pieces at the end of a very long day.

"Electra's lyre-guitar is a beautiful instrument."

"You sounded like you'd been playing it all your life."

"It's enough like a classical guitar that it wasn't difficult to pick up," Richard said. "Electra seemed to particularly enjoy the Eric Clapton music we played. She'd asked for an encore after 'Old Love.' Any ideas on what we should play tonight?"

"We could do 'Running on Faith,' then some pieces by Coldplay or the Beatles." Neal's eyes strayed back to the painting of Lilith. Rossetti's models typically had sensual mouths but Lilith's was carried to an extreme, along with a dash of cruelty. She seemed oddly familiar . . .

"There you are!" Sara exclaimed, entering the room. "I've finished my segment. Richard, Aidan's asking for you. He wants your help on a special effect."

Richard stood up. "We can decide on the music later. Sara, take Neal outside for some fresh air. Lilith's starting to get to him."

"Aidan won't need us till the evening," Sara said, placing her hands on Neal's shoulders. "Let's visit Maia. Dean and Sam are there. I haven't seen them since last fall."

Why was Lilith looking at him that way? Did she want him to remember too?

Sara tapped his cheek. "Still thinking about Beethoven?"

He nodded as he continued studying the work. "And now Lilith's demanding my attention. I did warn you that artists get easily distracted."

"We've been cooped up too long in the house," she declared. "I'm the first to admire atmospherics, but even to me the house is beginning to feel a little oppressive."

He nodded absently. The painting still called to him. "Electra said this is a copy but I think it may have been painted by Rossetti himself. When I asked her about the provenance, she said she'd bought it in a shop in London."

"Perhaps Rossetti painted two versions of Lilith," Sara suggested, sitting down beside him.

Neal turned the painting over. A sheet of paper had been glued to the backing.

"What's that?" Sara asked. "An inscription of some sort?"

"It's a verse of poetry," Neal said, scanning the lines. "Whoever wrote them said they're from Shelley's translation of _Faust_." He read them aloud to her.

"Beware of her fair hair, for she excels  
All women in the magic of her locks,  
And when she twines them round a young man's neck  
She will not ever set him free again."

"Very appropriate for an evil temptress," Sara commented.

"And for someone else." Neal ripped his eyes off the canvas. "Last summer I had a vision of Astrena when one of her pure-blood brood attacked me. Her long blonde hair appeared to be alive with electricity. The locks lashed out at me just like in the poem."

Sara squeezed his shoulder. "Could Rossetti also be one of Astrena's victims? He'd suffered a mental breakdown. Perhaps she caused it."

"It's possible. If Chloe and Maia hadn't severed the link, I might have suffered the same fate."

"Astrena has to be stopped, but not by you. Let Dean and Sam hunt her down." She stood up and tugged at his chair. "Time to go, before Aidan decides to change the shooting schedule on us."

"Maia's house is only a few blocks away. I haven't seen Dean and Sam since Venice." For a day in January, the weather was unusually mild. The brisk air would help dispel those errant cobwebs and morbid thoughts. He promised himself this was the last horror film he'd ever participate in.

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

Chloe was glad Dean hadn't asked for many details about her role in the film. Somehow she didn't think he'd be thrilled about her playing a psychic who conjured up a spirit. True, he might be turned on by the fact that she was actually a kickass alien from outer space . . . as long as he didn't realize she was a member of a race who harvested Earthmen to serve as incubators.

Chloe had watched Maia's shoot in the morning so she was prepared for what was, granted in her limited experience, a unique directing technique. Aidan was filming everyone separately. Once he was back in his studio, he'd mash them together. Keiko provided the actors a general idea of the setting, but there was virtually no dialog. The process seemed similar to what making a silent movie must have been like, only with an explosion of sound effects.

Electra greeted Chloe at the door when she knocked. In the past, Electra had always been gracious to Chloe but a little distant. Her sophistication generally made Chloe nervous, making her wish she'd worn dressier clothes or taken more time with her hair. This weekend, though, Electra was just one of the gang. She was wearing virtually no makeup which had the effect of making her look years younger.

"You arrived just in time," Electra said, pulling her into the entry. Instead of her typical silk suit, she was wearing black leggings and a silk tunic—probably the nearest she could come to the jeans everyone else was wearing. "Aidan's preparing the séance table now. Wait till you see the lovely bowl I found for you to use."

The furniture in the salon had been rearranged to allow space for a round mahogany table. It looked like an antique. No doubt it was extremely valuable. Chloe hoped she didn't scratch it. In the center was an ornate silver bowl delicately carved with a floral motif. It was reminiscent of the silver cauldron Peony used in New York but was much more ornate.

"The bowl is beautiful," Chloe agreed and glanced down ruefully at her black stretch tank top. "Your house is so elegant, I feel like I should be wearing a flowing silk robe."

"Nonsense," Electra declared. "Aidan would never have allowed it, and soon we will all be transformed by his magic. He asked me to fill the vessel with water. I suggested that floating a few orchids on top would create a distinctive effect, and he agreed. Would you like to help select the flowers?"

"I'd love to." Chloe had never visited Electra's orchid room. She'd been longing to have a tour, but this was her first invitation.

Electra led her through a beveled glass door into the grow room. The profusion of orchids of every color and fragrance made her gasp aloud. Flowers covered every inch of the walls and draped down from the ceiling. Chloe felt like she'd been transported to a tropical rainforest. No, not a rainforest, this was the Garden of Eden.

Electra stopped at one plant. "What do you think of think of this one?"

Chloe peered at the small blooms. "They look like miniature dancers."

Electra smiled. "Or the stars in the glass panels. Take a closer look. You may be able to detect the scent of ambrosia."

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

As Chloe bent down, Electra gently pressed her back. "That's it. Breathe deeply, my dear." _You're mine now. You'll soon realize the honor I've bestowed upon you._

As Chloe sniffed the blooms, the dancers turned blood-red. Electra's pulse quickened. She'd sensed Chloe was powerful, but her ability far exceeded Maia's. That child had only succeeded in turning the dancers lavender in color.

It was unfortunate that Electra's father had banished Scarbo. The demon had served her well for millennia, and even though in recent months he'd betrayed her, he'd still been an excellent resource. Thanks to Scarbo's spying, Electra learned that Maia and Chloe were distant cousins. With the help of their New York witch friend, they'd been able to trace their lineage back to Airmid, the most revered witch of all the druids. Maia's bloodline was the reason Electra had chosen her long ago. Now Chloe would be yet another of Airmid's flowers in Electra's collection.

She faulted herself for having held off for so long in developing Maia's potential. She'd wrongly assumed that by giving Maia more freedom, her native powers would surface naturally. Instead, the child had fallen in love with one protégé after another, never acquiring the mental discipline to keep herself emotionally detached. Electra wouldn't make the same mistake with Chloe.

Last month, when Erebus temporarily removed her ability to link with mortals, her father had inadvertently presented her with a gift. Thanks to him, she was forced to focus on her powers of witchcraft. For too long, she'd given them little notice. But her title of Mother of Witches was well-deserved.

Electra had spent the past month refining her skill with orchids. She was now able to heal wounds so completely that there was no telltale evidence to indicate she'd fed on someone. Tonight she'd feast on everyone in the house, and in the morning no one would realize what had happened to them. After she and Chloe had gorged themselves, Electra would instruct her on how to extract extra blood to be stored. Once Chloe was elevated, she might wish to make some of them her protégés.

When Maia returned to the house in the morning, she'd join Chloe. Both cousins would become her sisters-in-waiting.

While Chloe was temporarily mesmerized by the scent of the orchids, Electra held up another pot. The orchids looked like babies inside cocoons. She blew gently on them then held them up to Chloe's face. Chloe smiled at the new scent, unaware of their effect. From now on, she'd obey any directive Electra gave her. Perhaps tomorrow, Electra would have Chloe watch while she used the orchids to ensnare Maia.

Electra handed Chloe a pair of shears. "Snip seven of the dancers for your bowl, dearest. They'll represent the angels in the panels. Aidan will like the symbolism."

Electra retrieved a glass plate to hold the flowers. Once they left the orchid room, Chloe would appear unchanged to the others. The possibilities were exhilarating. With Maia controlling Sam and Chloe keeping Dean in check, Electra could take her pleasure as she wished without fearing interference from hunters.

For now, she sat quietly in the back of the salon and watched while Aidan filmed Chloe sitting at the séance table. She'd planned this evening for so long. She could afford to be patient a few minutes longer.

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

"And that's a wrap," Aidan said, stepping back from the camera. "Thanks, Chloe. I'll review the feed this evening. Will you be available tomorrow if I need to reshoot anything?"

"Sure, but don't make it too early. I'm not a morning person." Chloe stood up from the table. The movement made her lightheaded, and she clamped onto the chair back till the dizziness passed. The scent coming from the infusion bowl didn't seem that strong but it was giving her the strangest thoughts. The stained glass panels were in front of her, and the angels all looked like they were smiling straight at her.

Electra walked up. "You'd mentioned an interest in orchids. I have a book about them I'd like to show you. It's upstairs in my study."

Chloe didn't need to hurry back, and she'd never seen the upstairs. As she followed her hostess, her skin began to tingle. Faint whispers came at her from all directions. The voices sounded like they were speaking foreign languages. Nothing that she could recognize. It was as if the walls were filled with spirits, and they were all speaking at once.

Electra led her into her bedroom. Chloe paused when she saw a man playing the piano. He was wearing a frock coat and a fancy white shirt. He could have been in a Jane Austen movie. Was he one of Aidan's friends? He was playing some classical piece and Chloe didn't want to disturb him. She whispered to Electra, "Is he another of Aidan's friends? I haven't met him yet."

"You see him?" Electra's smile was radiant. "How delightful! Very few have the ability. I'll introduce him later. This way, dearest."

She opened a side door and beckoned for Chloe to enter the small wood-paneled chamber. A large faceted crystal ball rested on the center of the table. It sparkled with the colors of the rainbow. The walls were covered with portraits in gilt frames. On one wall were two portraits of women in medieval gowns. They flanked a blank space that looked like it was meant to hold another painting. "These paintings are the same style as the one we're using for the film. Are they painted by the same artist?"

"Very perceptive of you," Electra said approvingly. "They're all paintings by Dante Gabriel Rossetti. I like to think the woman holding the harp in the painting on the right is Maia." Electra smiled at the image fondly. "She's a siren who can entrance the listener with her song. The woman in the other painting could be you. Like you, she's a dark-haired beauty. The book she's reading could be one of your novels."

"We could call her Zoe after the heroine in my stories," Chloe suggested, feeling herself in a glow from Electra's flattering words.

"An excellent idea! Notice the way she emerges from the tree. She's a dryad, a lover of nature, as are you. Normally my painting of Lilith hangs between them. Once Aidan is finished, she'll return to her customary spot."

"What do you use this room for?"

Electra turned to smile at her. "Magic, of course." She flicked her fingers at the crystal ball and it came to life. The ball began to pulsate as spectral rainbows from its facets filled the room.

Chloe felt herself being drawn to the ball's radiance. The crystal spun ever faster in a dazzling kaleidoscope of colors.

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

"Please take a seat," Electra said and monitored her movements as Chloe obediently did as instructed.

Her doe-like eyes looked anxiously at Electra for approval and Electra gave her a reassuring smile. The infusion Chloe had breathed in would not only keep her fully compliant for at least twenty-four hours, it also enhanced her natural ability. Electra hadn't expected that Chloe would be able to see Beethoven's spirit. The child's natural ability was even stronger than she'd anticipated. Under Electra's guidance, Chloe's powers would quickly develop. Already Chloe was more capable than Maia. What the three of them could accomplish together. . .

Electra checked herself. Dreaming about the future could wait. The present was too delectable to squander an instant. "Don't you want to call Dean? He may wonder why you haven't returned home."

Chloe looked at her questioningly. Such a beautiful child.

"What should I tell him?" Chloe asked.

"Aidan's still working with you on your scenes. You'll be home by midnight." Electra thought a moment. "Add that you'll make it up to him when you get back."

Electra sat next to her as Chloe took her cell phone out of her bag. As she listened to Chloe's conversation, Electra considered her next steps. It would be a few hours before the others would be ready. The child should rest. The window seat would make a comfortable spot where she wouldn't be disturbed.

Once she cast a spell on Chloe to make her sleep, Electra closed the door and warded it against intruders. She headed down the stairs to check on the status of the production. Neal and Sara hadn't returned but the others were in the salon, reviewing the feed.

As Electra surveyed the group, her eyes settled on Travis. She'd never explored Travis's brand of creativity. His skill with computers and gadgets she'd likened to a clockmaker. That was a mistake. When she hosted the dinner in the fall, she discovered unplumbed depths which would be hers to enhance and elevate. No wonder he'd chosen such a creative partner. They made her mouth water with anticipation. She could almost taste their blood.

"I wonder if I could ask your assistance," she asked Travis. "One of the lamps in the cupola is flickering. I replaced the bulb but it didn't help."

"It could be faulty wiring," he said. "Would you like me to take a look?"

"I'd be very grateful."

Keiko looked up. "We're hoping to film there once Sara and Neal return."

"It shouldn't take long," Travis assured her.

_No indeed_. Electra turned to Richard. "Why don't you come too? I have a few Victorian wood carvings stored there which I know will interest you." She hadn't tasted a sculptor for too long. It was all she could do to keep herself from fingering his neck as Richard stood up.

* * *

_Notes: Supernatural fans know that Lilith is a powerful demon. Dean and Sam have yet to encounter her in my series, and Neal only knows the Lilith of Jewish folklore—a demon who was Adam's first wife. Some sources link her to vampires and sorcerers. It's an open question if Lilith and Astrena were friends, but Rossetti apparently thought they had several similar traits._

_There's a high probability that Rossetti was one of Astrena's victims. In our world, the artist copied the lines by Shelley onto a watercolor rendition of Lilith that is now owned by the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Astrena was undoubtedly flattered by being associated with the demon temptress, and she's eager to have Chloe and Maia sit at the séance table with her. She's initiated a move on Richard and Travis. In next week's chapter, Inside the Crystal Ball, she sets her sights on the two other couples in the house._

_Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation: [pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com](http://www.pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com)_  
_Chapter Visuals and Music: Glass Angels board on the Caffrey Conversation Pinterest website:[pinterest.com/caffreycon](http://www.pinterest.com/caffreycon)_  
_Twitter:[@silbrith](https://twitter.com/silbrith)_


	4. Inside the Crystal Ball

**New Haven. Saturday, January 28, 2006.**

"I hope the Winchesters are right in believing the sword can banish Astrena," Sara said as they walked up the front path to Electra's house. "As long as that goddess is around, you're still at risk." She took a slow breath. "If only there was a way to trap her."

Neal smiled. "I could take out an ad, challenging her to come and get me. If she still lusts after me, that should do the trick."

"Oh no, you don't. Perhaps Chloe and Maia can scry with a crystal ball instead." She gave a brief chuckle. "That sounds utterly fantastic, but, considering the potions they've made, I wouldn't put anything past them." She linked her arm through his. "What you've experienced makes Aidan's film seem tame in comparison."

"I wouldn't say that. Being abducted to an alien planet trumps my few encounters."

They'd spent a pleasant afternoon with Dean, Sam, and Maia. When Chloe called to say she'd be late, Neal wasn't surprised. Even so, Aidan would likely want her back the following morning. Sara's upcoming scene in the cupola was the last one scheduled for today. No matter what, Neal and Sara would return to the city by midday tomorrow.

In the back of his mind, that dream about Beethoven was still teasing him. What was he supposed to remember? That he and Richard should play something classical tonight? _Sorry, Ludwig, you're outta luck._ If only Angela were available. With her classical training, she'd be able to satisfy any spirit from the past who happened to be eavesdropping.

When they walked into the house, Aidan and Keiko were unhooking cameras.

"I hope we didn't hold you up," Sara said. "We toured some of the sights of New Haven with Maia and the Winchesters."

"Not at all," Keiko said. "We're taking a break." When Aidan began to grumble, she added, "Ignore him. We have plenty of time to finish this evening."

"Where are the others?" Neal asked.

"Electra told me Travis took off with Richard to visit a friend in the astronomy department at Yale," Aidan said.

Chloe had already left. Aidan must have changed his mind about filming additional scenes. It was odd he and Sara hadn't seen her when they left Maia's house, but perhaps she had an errand to run on the way home.

"Tea anyone?" Electra came in carrying a silver tea service. "How often do you have the chance to drink orchid tea?"

Neal wasn't a fan of herbal teas, but he had to admit the tea was surprisingly fragrant. It also made him realize he was more tired than he realized. Everyone began yawning. Aidan suggested holding off on filming till Richard and Travis were back. Soon everyone drifted upstairs to their rooms. By then, Neal could barely keep his eyes open. He remembered vaguely hearing Electra suggest they postpone dinner for a couple of hours to let everyone rest. He and Sara collapsed on the bed as soon as they entered.

Images flashed through his brain.

_"Remember," Beethoven barks._

_"Remember what?" Neal pleads in frustration._

_"You know her."_

_"Who do I know?"_

_"Astrena. She tormented me. Now she's after you. Remember your dreams."_

_The speed of the images slows. Vermilion orchids in a state park. A Wicca festival. Electra selling books . . . Mozart and Astrena. Her face is turned away, the bouffant wig shielding her from view . . . Astrena approaches Neal in Auvers-sur-Oise . . She removes her hat, but the sun is in his face. As he looks at her, he's transported back to the Spanish palace with the Marquesa. She strums a lyre. Her blond hair . . ._

_Something tickles his nose. He brushes it off and hears a low rumble. Someone is kneading his chest. How did a tiger get inside the palace?_

Groggily Neal blinked and gazed into Daphne's sapphire eyes. Sara was asleep next to him. They were lying on top of the comforter, still fully dressed. Daphne had dropped a cloth toy on his chest and was munching something. He could see a plant stalk dangling from her mouth.

"Not now, Daphne. We'll play later," he mumbled. Then everything came back with a rush. He shook Sara's shoulder. "Wake up!"

She brushed randomly at his hand. "Lat'r," she slurred.

"This can't wait," he insisted in an urgent hiss. "We're all in danger." The images teased at his mind. Could it be possible? "At the astro camp . . . those unusual orchids. We thought at the time there was a connection to the pure-bloods. She was at the Renaissance festival. I saw her right before I became ill." He rubbed his temple as the goddess's face appeared in front of him.

"You just had a bad dream," she murmured into her pillow. "Lie back down. We'll talk in the morning." Daphne dropped the toy onto her neck and she started. "What was that?" For the first time she sounded awake.

"Some toy Daphne picked up," Neal said wearily.

Sara sat up and rubbed her eyes. "She followed us into the room and I was too tired to get up and shut her out. I noticed her go under the bed. She was tossing something around as I fell asleep."

Neal examined the bag absently, his thoughts still on Astrena. Was Sara right that he'd simply dreamed the similarities? Daphne had ripped the bag apart, probably looking for catnip. A couple of objects were still inside. An old coin. Pieces of a dried flower.

Sara sat up and picked something off her sweater. "A bone? How that'd get here? Daphne, did you do this?"

Neal shook his head, his unease growing by the minute. "This isn't a toy. This is a hex bag."

"A hex bag? Like a witch would use?"

"Yeah, I'd examined one that was left in the cell when Hagen disappeared from prison. It also contained a flower, a bone, and an ancient coin." Astrena was known to be the goddess of witches. Bands of ice constricted his chest as he turned to Sara. "I think Electra is Astrena."

Sara stared at him, aghast. "Why do you say that?"

"Those dreams I had . . . In the past, I never was able to see Astrena's face, but I'm starting to now."

"And she looks like Electra?" Sara didn't challenge him but the anxiety in her eyes expressed volumes. She knew he was queasy over the horror aspects of the project. She probably thought his overactive imagination was doing a number on him. And maybe it was. Electra had hit upon him numerous times. Was his subconscious turning an ordinary cougar into a monster?

I need to reexamine the painting of Lilith," he said, not able to explain why he thought it would provide the solution. Already he was out of bed and darting to the door. If Daphne hadn't sneaked in and ripped apart the bag, would they still be asleep?

He cautiously peered into the hallway. No one was about. Only the ticking of a grandfather clock broke the silence. He and Sara were both still dressed but had removed their shoes. Putting his hand to his lips, he cautioned against talking.

Sara nodded quickly, now fully awake, her green eyes wide with concern. If Electra was Astrena, they didn't have a minute to lose.

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

Electra lifted Richard's hand then dropped it. The sculptor showed no reaction as his hand fell bonelessly to his chest. He and his lover were stretched out side by side on the floor of the cupola, both in deep slumber. They'd remember nothing of what she and Chloe would do to them. The dreams she'd planted in their minds were so pleasurable they'd hate to wake up. And they'd never realize that their blood had been harvested.

Electra had already prepared crystal flacons for her houseguests. Initially she'd hesitated over whether Sara's blood was worth collecting. But in the end, Electra decided linking to her could prove useful. It was unfortunate Elizabeth hadn't joined the others this weekend, but her blood could be harvested the next time Electra was in New York. Erebus may have neutralized Electra's ability to link over long distances, but it was now of little consequence. Luckily for her, her father didn't understand the power of orchids. Thanks to them she could still link with any protégé who was within fifty feet.

The mortals gathered in her house would be a fresh start. She'd be a benevolent muse. The anger which had been in danger of consuming her was gone. Erebus would appreciate the gifts she was bestowing on mortals.

She traced Travis's jawline. How could she have overlooked the creativity embedded within modern technology? Once she was linked to him, together they'd explore new innovations. She'd make frequent trips to New York to visit her protégés and be careful to spend time with each of them. Neal would be but one of an ever-growing circle of mortals who would worship her.

Electra scanned the two men. Which one would be better for Chloe to drink from? Travis, perhaps. He was more robust, although perhaps Chloe should make the decision. Drinking from the bamboo straws Electra had designed, Chloe might not even be aware she was drinking blood.

Electra stood up and left the men sleeping peacefully. It was time. She'd already checked on the two other couples. In a couple of hours, Chloe would be able to return to her hunter paramour, not remembering any of her actions.

Electra had waited till the last minute to finish the salve for healing the wounds. It worked best when fresh. She'd already assembled most of the ingredients. All that remained was to add the orchids from her grow room.

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

Sara felt Neal's eyes on her as she scanned the portrait of Lilith in the dining room. Honestly, she couldn't see the resemblance, but Neal was convinced the model was Astrena.

"Don't you see it? The curve to her lips?" His voice was a barely audible whisper. His fear that Electra would find them started to grab hold of Sara too.

"Electra was staying in the vicinity when the pure-blood vampires were created last summer," Neal explained. "She's visited me in my studio. I saw her at the Renaissance Festival shortly before I collapsed. Sara, she was in my mind. She entered my dreams. Maybe she created them. We have to tell the others, get them out of the house."

Sara wasn't convinced, but Neal was, and that was good enough for her. "We need to call Dean and Sam. Did you bring your cell phone?"

"No, it's upstairs." Neal darted to the entrance and then stopped in his tracks, his face instantly transfigured into an expression of rapture. "Electra! I was looking for you, and now you're here. You must have read my mind."

Panicked, Sara scanned the room for a place to hide. She wedged herself against the far side of the china cabinet, compressing her shoulders to make herself as thin as possible. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest.

"What are you doing downstairs?" Electra asked, her honeyed contralto sounding disturbingly ominous like it never had before.

"I couldn't sleep," Neal said, striding into the hallway. "The portrait of Lilith was haunting my dreams and now I know why. It's you."

Sara heard the rustle of fabric.

The tinkle of soft laughter made her skin crawl. "I'm flattered that you should think so, but I don't see the resemblance."

"That's why I needed to reexamine it. There's an inner beauty about the woman that shines through. The shape of her eyes, her mouth . . ."

Sara's stomach revolted at his words of adulation. Anyone who didn't know him would think he was besotted with her beauty. Would Electra buy it?

"That's when I realized I've been dreaming about you for months," Neal said. "Even in New Jersey. Do you remember when you walked through the meadow? The sunlight shone in your tresses. That night I dreamed I was Manet and you were my model. I must have been inspired by you. At that moment you became my muse."

"You must tell me more." God, she was fawning all over him.

Sara heard receding footsteps. Should she try to awaken the others before fleeing? If they were as sound asleep as she'd been, it would take too much time. Neal shouldn't be left alone with Electra, but he was counting on her to alert the Winchesters.

She crept to the doorway and peered around the corner. Neal and Electra were standing at the entrance to the salon. He'd managed to position her to face into the room while he looking into the hallway toward Sara. "Let's go inside to talk," he suggested when he spotted Sara. Following Electra into the salon, he jerked his head to the kitchen and mouthed "Go!"

Sara fled as soon as they were inside. There was a back door in the kitchen she could use. How long would Neal be able to hold Electra off? And what had she done to the others?

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

Neal sank onto the ivory velvet couch next to Electra. He'd never to his knowledge conned a goddess. This would need to be the performance of a lifetime. Electra appeared to be lapping up his adulation. She was smiling at him with the same mysterious archaic smile he'd seen on ancient Greek statues.

He thrust aside thoughts of Sara. Hopefully, she'd already escaped. _Focus on Electra._ He had to keep her occupied till the Winchesters arrived. The ancient gods supposedly responded well to flattery. He was about to test the theory.

He gazed rapturously into her eyes. "Over the past few months, I've dreamed I was various artists. Once I was Van Gogh. Last fall I believed I was Matisse. For a couple of weeks, I was one with Goya. The only constant was a beautiful woman who was my model. I was never able to remember her face clearly, but now I realize I've been dreaming about you. Because of your inspiration, I've been able to achieve works that otherwise would have been impossible."

As she stroked his jaw, he softened his expression still further, hoping to make his adoration even more apparent.

"I'm honored that you feel this way," she murmured, "but the talent is all yours."

"I beg to disagree. Have you heard of the goddess Astrena?" When she didn't immediately answer, he rushed on. "She's served as an inspiration to artists and musicians since the dawn of time. I believe you must be her embodiment."

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

Dean glanced over at Sam and Maia. They were snuggling on the couch while watching a DVD of _Love Actually_. Who did Dean have next to him? Tatyana. And, okay, the wolfhound had silky fur, but she was no Chloe. How long could it take to film one scene? This was his first chance to be with Chloe in nearly a month, and he was stuck with a dog.

Tatyana whimpered.

_Okay, a cute dog._ Tatyana rested her muzzle in his lap and looked at him mournfully as if she was sympathetic to his plight. Since he couldn't be with Chloe, at the very least they could have picked a decent movie, like _The Fly_ or _Resident Evil_ , preferably the original version, although the visual effects in _Resident Evil: Apocalypse_ made it a worthy contender.

When the doorbell rang, Dean jumped up. _Finally._ "I'll get it," he told the others, not that they were paying him any attention. He was halfway there before he questioned why Chloe didn't use her key. He got his answer when he saw Sara's face peering anxiously through the window in the door. Even from inside, he could tell she was panting, her face flushed.

"Neal's convinced Electra is Astrena," she blurted out when he opened the door. "I ran over to tell you."

He stared at her, shocked. Was she experiencing some sort of weird delirium?

Sara placed her hands on her knees, catching her breath. It was close to freezing outside. She wasn't wearing a coat and her feet were clad only in socks. Electra's house was over a mile away.

"Come inside," he said, tempering his reaction. "You need to thaw out, then you can tell me why Neal thinks Electra's Astrena." He heard a gasp and spun around. Maia was standing right behind him. Crap.

Sara wilted at her anguished look. "I'm so sorry, Maia." She took a breath. "I should have found a better way to tell you. But if Neal's right, everyone in the house is in mortal danger."

"You can't be serious." Maia's voice was barely audible. Sam pulled her next to him. She clung to him for support, her body shaking like a leaf.

"Why does Neal think she's Astrena?" Sam asked.

"You know about the dreams he's been having where he's a famous artist and Astrena appears to him?"

"Yeah, did he have another one?" Dean asked.

"Not exactly." Sara bit her lip. "But the atmosphere of the house was really getting to him. Neal never could recall the face in his dreams well enough to draw her, but a couple of hours ago the pieces all clicked together, and the face is that of Electra. He's convinced she's been haunting him since last June."

"She can't be!" Maia wailed. "I'd know, wouldn't I?" She looked pleadingly at Sam for reassurance.

"Not necessarily," Sam said. He was using the soothing voice he'd used on countless others. "Astrena could have possessed Electra years ago and kept her true self hidden."

"We've seen it happen before," Dean agreed. "Not with a goddess," he added, "but that's how demons survive, taking first one me—" Crap, he'd almost said meatsuit, and Electra was, after all, her sister. "Victim then another."

"Neal is positive he's right," Sara said. "We discovered a hex bag under our bed. We suspect it was a sleeping spell. If Daphne hadn't ripped it apart, we'd still be suffering from its effects. Aidan and Keiko are probably under another hex bag's influence. Electra served us an unusual orchid tea and then none of us could keep our eyes open. If Neal's wrong, we'll know soon enough. But what if he's right? He's currently stalling for time, but Astrena may have already seen through the con."

"Where's Chloe?" Dean demanded. "We thought Aidan was still filming her."

Sara's eyes widened. "I haven't seen her. Electra told us she left while Neal and I were away. We assumed we'd just missed her."

Dean shook his head, fear seizing him by the throat. "She called a few hours ago, saying Aidan needed her through the evening." Neal's theory suddenly didn't seem so outrageous.

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

Maia had her head buried in Sam's shirt, her breath coming in ragged gasps as he tried to comfort her. He didn't want to think Neal was right either, but they had to assume he was. He didn't tell Maia that if Astrena fled the body, Electra might be able to be restored. The odds weren't good that what was left of her sister could be saved.

Maia lifted her head. "Electra tried to kill you, kill Neal . . . I was living in her house while she—" She swallowed convulsively and slapped her hand over her mouth.

"I don't want to believe it either," he said, "but you can't think about it now. We need you." Ordinarily there was no way Sam would have allowed Maia to accompany them, but she knew the floorplan. She was familiar with hiding areas. Depending on what defenses Astrena used, Maia could give them a fighting chance.

"It's brutal, I know," Dean added, his voice unusually kind. "But right now we have to focus on the innocents in the house. Are you going to be able to hold yourself together?"

Maia tightened her lips and nodded. "I'll get the oil for the swords. We prepared a fresh batch of spell repellent a few days ago . . ." She cleared her throat. "The house could be warded. You may need me to break Astrena's spells."

"I'm going too," Sara added. "If nothing else I can distract her, or help to get the others out of the house. I'd ask to borrow one of your guns, but they won't be any good against a goddess."

Sam was impressed by her relative calmness. He knew she was channeling her concern for Neal into the preparations. Dean was doing the same, converting his anxiety for Chloe into action. Neal had mentioned Sara was a private investigator for an insurance outfit. Her skills could come in useful.

"How are you with a sword?" Dean asked.

Sara hesitated. "Untrained, but I'm skilled in martial arts and a baton. You give me a sword, I'll manage."

"Your feet look to be about the same size as Chloe's," Maia said. "I'll get you a pair of shoes to wear. You can also have one of my parkas."

No one wanted to discuss the odds of any sword succeeding against Astrena, even if it was the sword of Saint Mercurius and coated with the newly formulated potion.

They drove to the house in the Impala after smearing liberal amounts of spell repellent on themselves. When Sam got out of the car, he was confronted by the angels in the stained glass windows. They were being backlit by the lights in the salon. If Neal was right, their serenity masked a profound evil within the house.

Maia led them around the back to the kitchen entrance. The door was locked although Sara was positive it wasn't when she left.

"Hold the flashlight for me while I check it out," Dean whispered.

Sam shone the beam on the lock while Dean probed it with his pick. "It's been warded," he said after several failed attempts. "Maia, you want to try dehexing it?" 

They watched as Maia placed her hand on the doorknob and closed her eyes, frowning in concentration. After a moment, she drew a slow breath and looked at the others. "I'm ready. You realize that when I break the spell, the goddess will know."

Dean withdrew his silver sword from its sheath. "Go ahead. It's curtains time for Astrena."

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

"Rossetti was delightful to pose for," Electra confided. "He was always so solicitous of my comfort."

Neal smiled amorously at her and kissed her hand. She couldn't remember when she'd had such a delightful conversation. She'd originally intended to take him into her bedroom, but he'd been so eager to hear about her former protégés, how could she deny him the pleasure? At first they sat side by side, but gradually she'd leaned against his shoulder as he stroked her hair. He lapped up her tales as if they were the blood of Da Vinci, coaxing out anecdotes she hadn't thought about for centuries.

Neal alone of all her protégés knew her by her true name. _Astrena, my goddess_ , he'd called her. And rather than looking terrified at the thought, he gazed upon her with adoration. Surely that was affirmation that Neal was destined to be her consort. It was written in the stars. How else to explain that the hex bag hadn't worked on him?

He'd seen her true face in his dreams and sought her out. There was no need to disguise her radiance from him. Once her father restored her powers, she'd elevate him to be a demigod to live with her for eternity.

Nothing would ruin the joy she felt in this moment. She'd warded the house to prevent any intruders. The others were all asleep. She was alone with her beloved.

Would he understand the power of blood? Perhaps she should encourage him to drink from his friends. Electra would need to send Chloe back home before the hunters grew suspicious, but there would be plenty of time for Neal to savor the nectar.

Neal caressed her cheek. The touch of his fingers was gossamer silk. "Who was your favorite artist?"

_It may be you, my love. As my consort, the works you will achieve will be unsurpassed._

Suddenly she stiffened, electricity coursing through her veins. Who dared destroy her wards? Who was even capable of such a feat?

"Did I say something wrong?" Neal asked, taking her hand solicitously.

"Not you, beloved. I fear someone may be breaking in. They are nothing for you to be concerned about." Raising her voice, she called out to her keres, her avengers. Not in vain had the Greeks called them death-spirits. Against her warriors, any foe would become a goblet of blood for them to devour.

She watched Neal's reaction as the seven angels in the stained glass panels flew down to the floor, their mouths transformed into gaping maws of fangs, their fingers razor-sharp claws. Their robes shone as if still made of glass but would be lethal to any mortal touching them.

"Don't let them distress you. They will protect you." Would he be safe? Mortals were so frail. He could easily be killed in a battle. She gazed up at the stained-glass panels, now filled only with stars. and smiled. A fitting haven for her consort. Leaning over, she tenderly kissed his mouth. "This will be for only a moment."

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

Dean cautiously entered the kitchen. Maia the hexbreaker, that's what he was calling her from now on. She'd severed Astrena's link to Neal and Sam, she'd broken the ward protecting Electra's house. She was welcome to ride in the Impala any time . . . so long as she didn't ask to pick the music.

When Sara left, Neal and Electra were in the salon. If he'd managed to con her, they could still be there. Or her bedroom. Dean didn't bring up that delicate subject with Sara. Thanks to Maia they knew about the servants' staircase which led directly from the kitchen to the second floor. The women would attempt to find the others and take them outside while he and Sam tackled the goddess. From the description Sara provided of the bag the cat had shredded, the best case scenario was that the others were still under the influence of similar charms. Maia had brought along extra spell repellent to give them.

Sara gripped a silver sword in one hand. She might not be able to cast a spell, but she had the look of an avenging Valkyrie about her. Dean was carrying the sword of Saint Mercurius. Sara and Sam's blades didn't have an ancient lineage but they'd all been coated with the women's potion.

The kitchen was dimly lit by fluorescents under the upper cabinets. The house was quiet. The quiet hum of the refrigerator was the lone familiar sound.

Maia opened a door to reveal the servants' staircase. Sam mouthed a caution to the women to be careful. Unnecessary, but it might have made him feel better. He and Sam waited to move out till they were sure the women had reached the second floor without any alarm being sounded.

So far so good. It was their turn. Their objective was the salon. Dean sneaked to the entrance to the main hallway. A sudden gale of wind nearly knocked him over as soon as he crossed the threshold. Loose objects were hurtling around like projectiles. What the hell?

Three of the ugliest women he'd ever had the misfortune to see were flying straight at them. Their mouths were wide open, revealing gleaming fangs. They looked like banshee vampires. 

"Stand next to me!" Sam yelled over the gale.

"Don't let the bitches touch you! It's hack-and-slash time." Dean gripped his sword with both hands. No time for finesse and that wasn't his style anyway. Chloe called him her Ravensword _. This is for you, babe. And you damn well better still be alive._

* * *

_Notes: Is this a case of being saved by the cat? Neal's a long way from being home free. Will Chloe recover? Will Astrena's avenging death-spirits triumph? All will be revealed next week._

_Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation: _ [ _pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com_ ](http://www.pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com)   
Chapter Visuals and Music: Glass Angels board on the Caffrey Conversation Pinterest website: [ _pinterest.com/caffreycon_ ](http://www.pinterest.com/caffreycon) _  
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	5. Curtains for a Goddess

**New Haven. Saturday, January 28, 2006.**

Neal slowly grew aware of his surroundings. He was shivering from the cold, his brain reduced to frozen slush.

His eyes popped open. Astrena. When she was in his head at the Renaissance Festival, tendrils of electricity propelled him into the freezer. Now he was incased in what felt like a cocoon of ice. " _Beware of her fair hair_ ," the poet had said. Her locks had twined around the poet's neck. Was Neal destined for the same fate?

From what little he could tell, he was glued to one of the stained glass panels. Below him, Astrena still had two of her harpies with her. The others must have fanned out through the house. Was Sara safe? Had Dean and Sam come alone? They may have already succumbed to the demons' fury. Gusts of wind whipped around the salon. China ornaments and pots of orchids lay smashed on the floor. Neal felt as if he were lashed to the mast of a ship during a blizzard.

Astrena was speaking to her harpies in some language. It sounded like Greek. She spared him a glance. "It won't be long, dearest."

"Are we under attack? Let me come down and protect you."

She smiled at him as if he were a foolish child. "You're the one who needs to be shielded. Nothing can harm me."

"Don't count on it, bitch," Dean growled as he charged into the salon. Sam was right behind him. They appeared uninjured. Both were wielding swords. Dean darted a glance at Neal. "You okay?"

Neal nodded, hesitating to say anything for fear of enraging her still more.

Astrena shouted some command at her demonic guards, but all it took was one slashing stroke of the Winchesters' blades to make them vanish.

Astrena stepped back, looking shocked.

"It's over, Astrena," Sam said. "Release Neal."

"Never!" In an instant she transformed into the ice-blue gaseous entity of Neal's nightmares, standing at least double her original height. Uttering some tongue-twister of a word, she extended an arm toward Neal. As if magnetized, he was hurled toward her. Still paralyzed, he was unable to struggle as she wrapped an arm around him, holding him in front of her like a shield.

"I have suffered enough from your interference," she shouted over the gale, her voice dripping with venom. She spoke another phrase in Greek, lashing out with her free hand toward them . . . with no result.

"I'm calling that 'Strike three and you're out," Dean said contemptuously.

"Do you think we should give her another chance?" Sam mocked.

_No, we shouldn't_ , Neal insisted. _I'm ready to be rescued._

Just then Astrena shook convulsively. With a reverberating howl, she released Neal. He dropped to the floor, looking up just in time to see a disappearing trail of blue vapor.

"Are you all right?" Sara appeared from nowhere and crouched next to him, studying him anxiously.

"I think so." He flexed his fingers. "The paralysis is gone. What happened to Astrena?"

"Sara's got a good arm," Dean said, striding over. "We figured Astrena would use you as a shield. Sara sneaked in from the back while the bitch's focus was on us. I gave her the sword of Saint Mercurius, but all our swords had been treated with the potion."

"Maia led me to a back entrance through the grow room," Sara added. "As soon as the sword touched her, Astrena disintegrated. After all the torment she'd caused, it was supremely satisfying. I'm still amazed that it worked."

**June's House. Sunday, January 29, 2006.**

Neal raised his champagne glass to the enthralled listeners sitting around June's dining room table. "And that was the end of Astrena."

He and Sara had made it back to Manhattan just in time to ring in the Lunar New Year. Who would have dreamed the Year of the Dog would start so auspiciously?

As El raised her glass along with the others to toast the demise of the goddess, she hoped this was a positive omen for the coming year. In all the cases Peter and Neal had worked on with the Winchesters, the goddess had been directly or indirectly involved. Surely with her out of the way, the vampires would go torment some other part of the planet.

Tonight's banquet had been catered by the Hunan Pavilion, the same restaurant where Neal had painted a dragon mural a couple of years ago. Also invited to the party were Mozzie, Janet, Henry, and Eric, with the honorees Satchmo, Splash, and Bugsy. Janet had designed capes and hats for them which were being tolerated with varying degrees of success.

Neal had called Peter in the morning to report on the events of the previous evening. El appreciated that he'd given them time to adjust to the realization that the woman who'd acted as a benefactor to her community theater group had, in fact, been possessed by Astrena. El's heart went out to Maia. Neal said the two sisters hadn't been close, but even so, discovering that her sister had taken over by an evil goddess must have shattered her. El was glad that Chloe and the Winchesters were staying with her.

Based on the previous cases, Dean believed that Astrena had likely possessed Electra for at least three years. According to the brothers, it was probably a blessing that there were no remains of Maia's sister. The physical signs of abuse that were concealed when Astrena was present would have once more surfaced on the corpse.

El hoped that when Astrena was banished, the goddess's sisters were too, but there was no way of knowing.

"Did it take you long to find the hex bags in the other rooms?" Eric asked.

Sara shook her head. "When Maia and I went upstairs, we first checked on Aidan and Keiko. They were sound asleep. We assumed the hex bag would be in the same location as ours was—under the bed—and it was. Once we opened it and separated the ingredients, they began to revive."

"When did those"—Henry hesitated—"kouris attack?"

"The correct term is _Keres_ ," Mozzie chided. "Homer refers to them as death spirits who feast on the blood of the slain." He stroked his chin. "Could Astrena have created vampires based on their attributes?"

Henry grimaced. "Let's not muddy the waters with vampires. Sara, you said you slew two Keres. When did that happen?"

"They appeared at the doorway to Aidan and Keiko's room while Maia was destroying the hex bag," Sara said. El noticed Neal clasp her hand as she described the ordeal. "I had my silver sword ready and adrenaline took over. I'm glad Aidan wasn't there to record my wild slashes, but thanks to the potion, all I had to do was nick them." She smiled at Neal. "It gave me quite a boost of confidence."

"Keiko told me she'd been dreaming of _Final Fantasy_ ," Neal said. "When she saw you tackling the spirits, she thought she was still dreaming and you were a character swooping in to save her with your magic sword. I know how she felt. You're my hero as well."

"We made quite a team," she said, her eyes sparkling at his praise. "Between my silver sword and your silver tongue, we were invincible." She turned to the others. "If Neal hadn't managed to keep Astrena distracted so long, we might have been too late. Chloe remembers Astrena telling her that she wanted to extract blood from everyone in the house."

"You mentioned Chloe had been placed under some sort of spell," Janet prompted.

Neal nodded. "Maia said she needed to use a counter-spell to break its hold. Dean called her the finest hexbreaker he'd ever met."

"Peony told me that powerful witches usually have an affinity for one aspect of magic," Janet said. "With Chloe, it's the ability to sense and communicate with spirits. For Maia, it's spell-breaking."

Peony was the head of the Silver Cauldron coven and acted as a mentor to both women. El shuddered when she remembered how Electra had encouraged her to participate in Wicca rituals. What nefarious purpose did she have in mind?

"You okay?" Peter murmured.

She nodded. "Just thinking about what a narrow escape we all had."

"What happened to Richard and Travis?" Henry asked.

"Astrena told us they were visiting Yale," Neal explained, "but in reality she'd asked them to go upstairs to the cupola to fix a wiring problem. They entered the room and the next thing they remembered they were on the planet Vulcan. Travis said the experience was amazingly vivid. He visited the capital city of ShiKahr, and talked with Vulcan scientists—in Vulcan, mind you. What was even more astonishing was that Richard had the same experience. He dreamed he was walking alongside Travis. They shared the same memories."

"Aidan and Keiko had a similar experience," Sara added. "They participated in a _Final Fantasy_ adventure. Chloe believes Astrena planted the dreams and had the power to make them cooperative."

"It's similar to the way she had me dream about artists," Neal said. "I have a greater appreciation of what she was. She could inspire great feats of creativity as well as terror. When I pretended to worship her, she was gracious and warm."

"And once crossed she'd turn into evil personified," Peter said. "Does Chloe believe that she actually saw the spirit of Beethoven?"

Neal shrugged. "She doesn't know what else it could have been. Perhaps the piano was haunted by his presence. It's equally hard to understand why I dreamed about him that night, but I'm convinced he was the one encouraging me to remember Astrena's face."

"The spirit could have been bound to Beethoven's portrait," June suggested. "Or perhaps in the piano. The two were in the same niche."

"You mentioned Electra owned the house for fifteen years, and nobody knows how long she'd been possessed by Astrena," Eric said. "The secrets that house could hold . . ." He exhaled. "That's one house I don't think I'd want to remodel. I assume it belongs to Maia now?"

"Eventually," Sara said. "She and Chloe were checking it out for ghosts when we left. Electra accumulated a fabulous collection of paintings, books, and antiques. Just making an inventory will probably take months."

"Will Maia inherit the bookstore as well?" Henry asked.

Neal nodded. "For now Electra's assistant will manage it. Maia asked for advice on how to handle her sister's disappearance. The Winchesters have some experience in such matters."

"And they're not the only ones," Peter said, giving Neal a pointed look. "Haven't you developing faking death into an art form?"

El was curious to see Neal's reaction. Peter had told her Neal once faked being killed by a great white shark.

Neal gave a half-smile as if he thought that was precisely what Peter had in mind. "For now, Maia will tell the sales assistant that Electra left to visit a sick friend."

"But eventually a death certificate will need to be produced," Peter insisted.

"Suit, do you _really_ want to know the details?" Mozzie challenged. El appreciated what he was doing. The old "By the Book" Peter was starting to emerge. Mozzie no longer addressed Peter as _Suit_ except in jest. It was a not-too-subtle reminder that as an FBI agent, Peter would be better off remaining uninformed, and El appreciated the save. Mozzie advised the Winchesters. He would undoubtedly help Maia, and if Neal did too, she didn't want to know about it. Nor did her husband.

"Beethoven wasn't the only helpful spirit in the house," Janet said, tactfully moving the conversation onto a less prickly topic. "Based on what you told us, Electra's cat was your guardian angel."

Neal nodded vigorously. "I told Maia if she didn't want Daphne I'd gladly adopt her." He turned to June. "Subject to your and Bugsy's approval, of course."

"If only I lived in the States, I'd welcome her," Sara added. "I grew up with cats and miss having one."

"But we're both out of luck," Neal said. "Maia is very fond of Daphne as is her dog Tatyana. But enough about us." He turned to Henry. "Did you learn anything more about Seth Winslow?"

Henry nodded, setting down his chopsticks. "Pops and I met with Aunt Louisa. When she was a child, she interviewed Seth's daughter for a school report. Louisa was able to provide a lead on one of Seth's college friends. I intend to follow up, even though the case is frozen solid by now. Mainly I'm curious to find out why the guy walked away from his family. He must have had a powerful reason."

"Have you found any personal object of Seth's?" Mozzie asked.

"A gold watch, and I know what you're thinking. I should ask Chloe to try to connect with him."

"It could confirm your relationship to the Winchesters," Janet pointed out.

"Possibly, but the more I think about it, the less I think that's wise," Henry said. "What if Seth's a vengeful spirit like one of those ghosts out of Oblivion? Even more to the point, this is a man who ran away from the Winslows. He might not be thrilled at having his past exposed. In any case, Chloe has more than enough on her mind now. She doesn't need any extra complications."

El was impressed by Henry's attitude. His natural curiosity as an investigator was undoubtedly urging him to pursue all avenues, even the supernatural ones, but he was shutting the door. He'd evaluated the consequences and not liked what he might find.

Even more impressive was that Henry reviewed the situation with the others. He let them in on his reasoning and showed that he was open to other points of view. Peter had told her about a conversation he'd had with Neal in Venice where Neal revealed he and Henry were trying to avoid secret conspiracies. Shouldn't she do the same?

With the Mansfelds in prison and Astrena destroyed, this was the perfect time for her and Peter to consider an addition to their family, either their own or through adoption. Every day she felt more ready. But how would Peter react? He hadn't mentioned any desire for kids despite volunteering at children's telescope workshops for the past year. Wouldn't he have said something if he wanted a Baby Burke?

She promised herself to wait till he'd read the next Arkham Files story. Depending on his reaction to her character's pregnancy, she'd know how to proceed. In the meantime, she should let him convert that extra room to an office. They could sort out later where to put the nursery.

When Neal called Peter with the news about Astrena, El knew that her husband wished he'd been notified sooner so he could have raced to New Haven. But El was relieved Sara hadn't alerted him. There wouldn't have been time for him to do anything, and Peter would have been beside himself with frustration and worry. It was a valuable lesson for him to see that they managed without him.

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

Chloe lazily stretched her arms out on the ivory silk sheets, wishing Dean was still alongside her. She could still feel the lingering warmth of his body. Last night, she and Ravensword had banished any lingering Astrena ghosts with their passion, and she wanted to hold onto that feeling for a while longer.

She glanced lazily at the clock. It was only ten o'clock. No need to rush getting up. They'd been awake most of the night. After making love, they'd fantasized about how to transform Astrena's room into their private Shangri-La.

When Maia suggested they should move into Electra's house, Chloe was initially reluctant and Dean was horrified. The mansion seemed far too grand for her taste. The brothers were quick to bring up the possibility of lingering malignant influences. But after spending two full days without anything nasty happening, everyone agreed the pluses outweighed the minuses.

Maia insisted Chloe should appropriate her sister's room once they'd verified there were no hidden traps or curses. It would need to be redecorated, of course. For now, Chloe was using one of the guest bedrooms. It was the most sumptuous room she'd ever had. She loved the 4-poster bed with its wrought-iron open canopy. Maybe they didn't need to sell the furniture. New colors would work wonders.

In Maia's cottage, they'd been on top of each other. Since they'd converted the kitchen into a stillroom, there was no place to cook, and the garden wasn't large enough to grow everything they needed. Now they had a mansion. They could expand the greenhouse, add herb gardens, and increase the number of flower beds. Maia wanted to feature Chloe's books at the bookstore. Maia had already promised to hold a book-launching party if Chloe's current works in progress, _Monkshood by Moonlight_ , ever got to that stage. In the future, Chloe might not have to supplement her income with boring technical writing.

She was convinced the house itself was magical. The spirits had been waiting for her and Maia. Together they'd liberate it from Astrena's dark magic and transform it into a haven for good witchcraft. Eventually, they might even be able to use Astrena's crystal ball.

Chloe wasn't naïve. She was well aware of Dean's concern about what Astrena had done to her, but even after Maia broke the spell, Chloe retained the memories of what had happened. Not only did she understand what Astrena intended to do, but she also remembered how impressed Astrena was with her and Maia's ability. It was a confirmation of Chloe's nature that she could no longer ignore. 

Daphne jumped on the bed and began kneading her chest.

"Do you want me to get up? Maia and Sam have probably already had breakfast and taken Tatyana for a walk, and I'm being a sloth." Chloe lazily stroked Daphne's back. "Could I persuade you it's better in bed?"

Daphne stretched out beside her, purring loudly. She also seemed happy at the change of ownership. Chloe sighed contentedly. Just a few more minutes' shuteye . . .

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

Dean was in the garage when Bobby's pickup rumbled to a stop. Bobby hauled himself out of the cab, placed his hands on his hips, and stared at the mansion that Dean hoped would soon be his new digs too.

"What d'ya think?" Dean asked as he greeted him.

Bobby didn't say anything for a moment before nodding slowly. "Not bad for a witch house."

"That's better than calling it Astrena's lair. I appreciate you agreeing to move in."

"The girls don't mind?"

"Are you kidding? They're ecstatic. They may know their way around a stillroom, but neither one knows the first thing about home maintenance."

"Where are they?"

"Maia and Sam took Tatyana on a ramble in the woods behind the house. Chloe's sleeping in." He grabbed Bobby's duffel out of the cargo bed. "Come inside. I'll show you around."

Dean had been relieved that Maia accepted his suggestion so readily. When she and Chloe mentioned their desire to move, his initial reaction was to curse at the notion. They weren't positive they'd banished Astrena permanently. If she returned, she'd likely come here first. Then there was his continuing unease about what damage Astrena might have done to Chloe. She seemed fine. And she'd been awesome in bed last night. Surely not a residual Astrena effect?

Bobby paused at the front door. "Should I sprinkle holy water first?"

"No need. I already have. The house spirit seemed to enjoy it."

Bobby furrowed his brow. "House spirit? That's a new one."

"For me too. Chloe says it's like the house has come alive and, according to her, it's welcoming us with open arms."

Bobby let out a noisy exhale. "I know your girlfriend has an in with spirits, but that's hard to swallow."

Dean grunted in agreement. "But she's starting to turn me into a believer. You remember that ghost she saw playing the piano?"

"Yeah," Bobby said warily. "What about it?"

"Chloe was able to determine that it was a spirit tied to the painting of Beethoven. She believes the same spirit caused Neal to recognize Electra as the woman who'd been haunting his dreams."

Bobby rubbed his chin. "Chloe has a natural ability to connect with the spirit world, but I didn't realize that extended beyond the séance table."

"Me neither, and it's a continuing concern. Chloe thinks she's more sensitive to them because the orchids Astrena had her smell awakened her senses."

Bobby's eyebrows crawled to his hairline. "Permanently?"

Dean shrugged. "It hasn't worn off yet. Both Chloe and Maia attribute their enhanced ability to their ancestry. They claim they're simply becoming more aware of the natural talents they've always had."

"I suppose that's one way of looking at it," Bobby said slowly, the implication clear. He didn't need to voice the other possibility that Astrena was still manipulating them. "Son, we could get our britches into a snitch or accept what's happened as a gift. The girls' talents are damned useful."

"Can't argue with that," Dean agreed. "You should have seen Maia in action. She was able to zap the wards on the house and neutralize the spell Chloe was under. When Chloe detected Beethoven's ghost, Maia disenchanted the painting and set the ghost free."

"I've heard of witches capable of hex-breaking, but it's a rare talent, just like Chloe's. Those two girls are just as powerful or more so than any of the weapons in your arsenal."

"And potentially just as dangerous," Dean said, not that they needed a reminder. But voicing his fears out loud made them seem more manageable. "You'll keep watch on them?"

"I figured that's why you wanted me here. It's not just in case Astrena comes back."

Dean nodded, grateful that Bobby got it. He opened the front door. "Welcome home."

Bobby's eyes popped open wide as he scanned the marble and carved wood entry. Retreating, he swiped his boots vigorously on the doormat. "Is the whole house like this?"

"Nope, it's even fancier. Chloe and Maia want to update the look but you better get used to posh surroundings."

Dean led him into the salon. The stained glass panels displayed the angels once more. When Astrena vaporized, their images reappeared. That more than anything else convinced him Astrena was truly gone.

Bobby gave a low whistle. "This stuff has to be worth a fortune. What's Maia gonna do with it all?"

"Nothing for a while. Mozzie's offered to prepare documentation testifying to Electra's death. He suggested a car accident in Romania."

Bobby chuckled. "Nice touch. Will Vlad the Impaler be involved as well?"

"It seems fitting," Dean agreed, keeping a straight face. "Maia wants to eventually sell a lot of the art and antiques, but each item will first need to be checked that it's not cursed in some manner."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Just my luck I'll discover them on my own." His face grew more serious. "How's Maia's handling the news about her sister?"

"She's grieving. The two weren't particularly close, but still." Dean shrugged. "It's a combination of shock that Maia's been associating with Astrena for years, and guilt that she should have realized something was wrong."

Bobby grunted. "We know too many meatsuits who never displayed any sign of the demons inside them till it was too late. No one got killed in the final showdown with Astrena. That's good enough for me." He nodded absently as he scanned the surroundings once more. "So, this will be your new home too."

Dean grinned. "Just call us the Scoobies."

Bobby snorted. "I remember how much you loved that series. This must be a dream come true. The four of you living in the Mystery Mansion, battling monsters."

"First of all, that's _love_ not loved. Second, with you here, that makes five, not four." Dean grinned. "And if you insist on making the comparison, you'd make an awesome Scooby."

"You're making me a dog?"

"Not just any dog, a Great Dane, and a talking one at that."

Bobby snorted. "I reckon that's better than a hellhound. You gonna trade in the Impala for the Mystery Machine?"

"Nah, there's a limit." Although a van could come in useful. Maia didn't own a car. Chloe's Mustang didn't take up much space . . .

But the most important issue was already settled. Bobby was moving into the mansion. Dean had thought it might be harder to convince him. He'd even bought one of Wisteria's cherry pies to have around just in case Bobby needed extra convincing. Now they'd have it to seal the deal.

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

"Make it raisin, served hot with two scoops of ice cream," Crowley said.

The young fresh-faced waitress smiled as she wrote down the order. "And to drink?"

"Glencraig, neat." At her look of confusion, he added, "That's Scotch. Just run along and tell your bartender. He knows to keep it in stock."

He gave her a tolerant smile when she blushed. Honestly, he didn't know why he was in such a good mood. When Gemma contacted him with the news of Astrena's departure, he was shocked but not saddened. Truth be told, he'd grown tired of Astrena's imperious ways. Always mooning about Cheekbones. Never appreciating how much Crowley had done for her.

Now he was a free demon once more. His eyes swept over the glassed-in garden tea room in Wisteria's establishment. Once he'd gotten over the initial disgust at all the lavender chintz, he'd grown used to the comfortable wicker chairs, and her pies were truly exceptional.

Drasko walked in and Crowley beckoned him to his table. Drasko's youthful appearance and slim build fit in well with the college look. He could easily be mistaken for a grad student.

"Did you encounter any difficulty?" Crowley murmured.

"No. All references to you and Gemma have now been expunged from her hard drive."

Such a pleasure to have Drasko working with him once more. Crowley hadn't been pleased to hear of Alcy's demise in Venice. But in a demonstration that there was a silver lining to everything, her loss had been Crowley's gain. Drasko was working for Crowley once more where his hacking expertise would be put to good use.

Drasko slanted him a sharp look. "Has Gemma requested your services?"

Crowley nodded. "I've agreed to help her out from time to time for the appropriate remuneration, of course."

"Is she really Astrena's sister?"

"No, simply a mortal that Astrena elevated to be a demi-goddess. She doesn't begin to approach Astrena's power, but Gemma is a skilled witch. Maintaining a relationship with her could provide further opportunities."

Drasko shrugged. "For as long as she remains alive. The hunters have killed Alcy, banished Astrena. Gemma could be on their hit list as well."

"Not likely. She has the advantage of not being known to them. As long as she remains in the U.K. and maintains a discreet profile, she shouldn't have to worry."

Drasko continued to look troubled. "But, sir, the Men of Letters are in England as well."

"She's aware of them and has so far managed to stay off their radar." _As will we_. Much as he would miss Wisteria's pies, not to mention the charming innocence of Maia's friendship, Crowley didn't plan to return to New Haven anytime soon. With the Winchesters moving into Astrena's house, his time here was over.

He'd miss Maia, but he'd already had to adjust. Since Astrena erased her memory, she considered him to be merely a business associate. Crowley preferred the earlier comfortable friendship they'd established. He even had a photo of Tatyana in his wallet. No photos of the cat. He and Daphne had never gotten along. If Maia hadn't been so fond of her, he would have disposed of her long ago.

Bollocks, already he was missing being able to drop by his home away from home.

Still the situation could quickly change. Maia could become disenchanted with her moose of a boyfriend. Crowley could help it along, but he'd hold onto that card for a while. In the meantime, New Orleans was a safe haven to pad his bank account and plot his next initiative.

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

Neal chuckled into the phone. "Sam said watching Dean and Bobby adjust to life at the manor, as they call it, has been highly entertaining. When Dean discovered Electra's media room with a goddess-sized TV, his reservations were cast aside."

At the sound of Sara's warm laugh, he felt like she was in the studio with him. Sara had returned to London yesterday. Today was his day to spend at Columbia. Calling her during the lunch break was a welcome respite from the grind of seminars.

"I'm glad Maia is surrounded by her friends," she said. "They'll be a comfort to her. Has she decided what she'll do with the cottage?"

"She plans to hold onto it. For now, she'll rent it. Eventually, she may convert it into an herb shop. Maia's a realist when it comes to career opportunities for classics majors. They're about on a par with art historians."

"Not those with your special skills," Sara said quickly.

Neal smiled. "That's a diplomatic way of phrasing it. Maia's reassessing her options. The life of an academic doesn't have much appeal when she compares it with the work she's doing with Chloe." He could have added _I can relate_ , but Sara already understood. His advisor was prodding him to decide on how he'd want to make use of his doctorate when that far-off day arrived, but he didn't even want to think about it. Wasn't simply surviving the spring semester enough?

"In any case, Maia will be so busy managing her sister's estate and bookstore, she won't have much time for anything else," he added. "She's asked for my help. Eventually, she plans to sell the artworks. She doesn't feel right in keeping them since she doesn't know how they were acquired. She'd like to donate the funds to the family foundation to use for grants."

"Is there any danger the foundation has been tainted by Astrena?"

"Peter had the same question. He and Jones researched them and the group appears to be completely above board. The Stavrou family is real. The foundation is managed by relatives of Electra. Maia's adopted parents were killed in a car accident when she was ten years old. Electra was twenty-five at the time. It's tempting to think that was when she became possessed. A month later she moved to New Haven and purchased the bookstore."

"Did Maia come to the States with her?"

"No, she remained behind, attending boarding school. When she was eighteen, she moved to New Haven and was admitted to Yale."

"After a separation of eight years, Maia would be less likely to notice changes in her sister's personality," Sara commented.

"Sam feels the same way. I wrote to Fiona, asking for the name of an appraiser." Neal's former girlfriend used to work for the New York branch of Weatherby's auction house.

"I got an email from her today. Did you know she and Gerald are moving back to London?"

"She mentioned it to me as well."

"Did she share her other news?" There was a note of hesitation in Sara's voice.

"No, but let me guess. She and Gerald are engaged."

"How do you feel about it?"

"Happy for them," Neal assured her quickly and he meant it. "In a sense I acted as matchmaker. I'll claim that as a victory. I knew at the time that I was right to relinquish the field. If I'd realized it would allow me to be with you, it would have been a much easier decision."

Her kiss came through on the phone. "Fiona said they plan to get married in early May."

"They're not the only ones hearing wedding bells. Angela and Michael returned from Baltimore with a date for their wedding. It's to be on May 28 on San Juan Island. That's near Seattle which is where Michael's parents live. I'm counting on you being able to attend."

"I wouldn't miss it," she assured him, "but I hope to see you before then. I hear Henry's already scheming about somebody's graduation party."

He chuckled. "Don't tell me anything about it. I don't want to jinx it."

"Just remember, I'm still working on that transfer to New York."

"It can't happen soon enough."

* * *

_Notes: Does Crowley strike you as being a tad lonely? Neal's returned to New York, Astrena's back among the stars, and Maia and Chloe have moved into Electra's house which is rapidly transforming into the Scooby-Doo Mystery Mansion. No longer will Crowley be able to drop in unannounced. No more romps with Tatyana. But Crowley is by nature an optimist, and he predicts his fortunes may change. In the meantime, he's found a safe rabbit hole in New Orleans. If you're curious about what the future may hold for Crowley, I mention several options in my blog post this week. The title is "[Crowley: On the Outside Looking In](https://pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com/2020/05/crowley-on-outside-looking-in.html)."_

_I suspect this won't be the last trip Neal makes to New Haven. All those objects Astrena's collected are waving at me. How many are enchanted? Then there's Seth's gold watch. Henry has decided not to put it to the test, but events could cause him to change his mind._

_Thanks again to Penna Nomen for awesome beta help and to you for reading! Next week I'll be back with an Arkham Files story, Standing Stones. In late June, it will be time for another Caffrey Conversation story._

_Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation: _ [ _pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com_ ](http://www.pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com) __  
Chapter Visuals and Music: Glass Angels board on the Caffrey Conversation Pinterest website:[ _pinterest.com/caffreycon_ ](http://www.pinterest.com/caffreycon) _  
_ _Twitter:_ [ _@silbrith_ ](https://twitter.com/silbrith)


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